[With anyone else, there might be space for denial. There might be a sliver of doubt for Paul to negotiate with, for him to refuse. But it's Lazarus, with his thrumming canted gearwork genius, and if he couldn't find the alternative-
(There was nothing anyone could have done.)
Paul is silent as he's pressed close by slim (wasted) arms, his own finding their way around Lazarus' back to circle loosely. He is a machine with slit hydraulics, all his motive force leaking out of him; he is a cut-string puppet, tossed aside by a weary child. There should be a sense of feeling in him at this revelation, he thinks. He reaches for one, for anything at all.
In the distance, the horizon rolls like waves.]
How long have you been looking?
[The question surfaces from some black-surfaced well, unanticipated and unbidden. It seems important. It must be, for him to ask it.]
no subject
(There was nothing anyone could have done.)
Paul is silent as he's pressed close by slim (wasted) arms, his own finding their way around Lazarus' back to circle loosely. He is a machine with slit hydraulics, all his motive force leaking out of him; he is a cut-string puppet, tossed aside by a weary child. There should be a sense of feeling in him at this revelation, he thinks. He reaches for one, for anything at all.
In the distance, the horizon rolls like waves.]
How long have you been looking?
[The question surfaces from some black-surfaced well, unanticipated and unbidden. It seems important. It must be, for him to ask it.]