[From an abstract remove, Paul watches Lazarus climb the way he works every puzzle: swiftly methodical, without the burden of such indecision as wrecks Paul on its rocks. He sees his course and takes it. It's a preoccupying thought that slows Paul's reaction to the order to join him, but then he is at Lazarus' side, fingers hooked to a thin outcropping.
He looks at Lazarus with eyes that subside at the answer. He answers with voices that turn inward in communion with each other, self-reflection turned to self-echo.]
But I did, didn't I?
[His stilsuit is water-heavy, sopping, but it's no obstacle to his ascent. He finds handholds and footholds as easily as scaling a ladder, this plateau not so different from the grey cliffs of Caladan.
no subject
He looks at Lazarus with eyes that subside at the answer. He answers with voices that turn inward in communion with each other, self-reflection turned to self-echo.]
But I did, didn't I?
[His stilsuit is water-heavy, sopping, but it's no obstacle to his ascent. He finds handholds and footholds as easily as scaling a ladder, this plateau not so different from the grey cliffs of Caladan.
He always loved the storms more than the calms.]
I drowned you, when I died.