01-28-2014, 11:07 AM
Lucia would say she deserved no mercy. Eleanor might say she received more than she deserved, particularly in the end. But Eleanor doesn't say anything for a long while, after those last words whispered over Lucia's body.
What happened to Keller, what happened to the twisted hulking man beside him: these were a tragedy. She takes that on herself, too. This is what it means to serve karma, or guard the Wheel, and walk under that burden. Eleanor doesn't lie to herself and say that any of the deaths that night were Good Deaths. She does not take much comfort in ending suffering, but to be fair: she doesn't look for it, either. It's not about what comforts her.
She excuses Pan, if he'll be excused, when it comes to dealing with the bodies. If he stays, she doesn't argue with him. She doesn't speak much while they dispose, inasmuch as they must, of the corpses. She does ask, before they do anything, if his weapon was registered. If the answer is no, there isn't much they need to do: let the authorities find the bodies as they are. If the answer is yes, she tells him not to fire it next time; she'll bring something for him, if he really needs it.
That's about all she has to say.
--
They destroy the film. Then and there, unless Sid or Kalen or Pan insist otherwise.
They drive back to Denver.
Eleanor checks the time. And sends a message to Italy through the same ones used before.
--
Montanari and Keller are dead. The umbrood is returned to its realm. Thank you for your assistance.
She does not include condolences. It's the polite thing to do.
If you believe that death is the end.
--
There is cleanup to do at home, after she's returned there. She puts her tools away. She washes herself. The rest of the night is spent in meditation, in yoga. She tries not to think about Richard, about how she'll explain this to him, how to teach him anything with this. She thinks about Lucia, and Keller, and the changed man. She thinks about their deaths. She thinks about their souls.
And if it could be called prayer,
she prays for them.
[I had a blast in that scene! Thank you for running this, Sam! :]]
What happened to Keller, what happened to the twisted hulking man beside him: these were a tragedy. She takes that on herself, too. This is what it means to serve karma, or guard the Wheel, and walk under that burden. Eleanor doesn't lie to herself and say that any of the deaths that night were Good Deaths. She does not take much comfort in ending suffering, but to be fair: she doesn't look for it, either. It's not about what comforts her.
She excuses Pan, if he'll be excused, when it comes to dealing with the bodies. If he stays, she doesn't argue with him. She doesn't speak much while they dispose, inasmuch as they must, of the corpses. She does ask, before they do anything, if his weapon was registered. If the answer is no, there isn't much they need to do: let the authorities find the bodies as they are. If the answer is yes, she tells him not to fire it next time; she'll bring something for him, if he really needs it.
That's about all she has to say.
--
They destroy the film. Then and there, unless Sid or Kalen or Pan insist otherwise.
They drive back to Denver.
Eleanor checks the time. And sends a message to Italy through the same ones used before.
--
Montanari and Keller are dead. The umbrood is returned to its realm. Thank you for your assistance.
She does not include condolences. It's the polite thing to do.
If you believe that death is the end.
--
There is cleanup to do at home, after she's returned there. She puts her tools away. She washes herself. The rest of the night is spent in meditation, in yoga. She tries not to think about Richard, about how she'll explain this to him, how to teach him anything with this. She thinks about Lucia, and Keller, and the changed man. She thinks about their deaths. She thinks about their souls.
And if it could be called prayer,
she prays for them.
[I had a blast in that scene! Thank you for running this, Sam! :]]
my whole life is thunder.