[ Yearning makes no distinction between good and evil. Want, longing, desire— merely names attributed to the ambition that has driven him relentlessly for years.
Enduring this arduously, Jeremiah must be the same. Something beyond his loyalty, that'd move him even in the depths of despair. In C.C. it was reciprocity, and in Suzaku it was atonement, but Lelouch can't ascribe a name to the feeling in himself. Sometimes, greed. Sometimes, generosity. And sometimes, risk, waiting here as the sun sinks lower and lower along the sky as if it wishes to be swallowed up by the earth. As Lelouch had once thought he'd be swallowed up by the grave, Nunnally's tears his very last regret. And Jeremiah— already out of his line of sight that day, carrying out his will to the last.
Lelouch huffs, too much air to properly culminate as laughter. Only a table separates them. Only the distance between his hand and Jeremiah's, his own set upon the table as the lampposts warm and glow, incandescent with light.
Jeremiah's eyes are so feverish from up close; like he's struggling to contain something that should split his breath with pain were he to voice it aloud, and still Lelouch presses on as if he is truly beholding his heart, rather than merely humoring his response. ]
And what is it that you've sought and found? Enlighten me.
[ Purpose, meaning? Those are things that can come from anyone, and anywhere. There's no glory to being at his side, nothing to champion. Only an endless, endless pursuit to topple the dreams of those who aspire to heights greater than what can contain them.
It's what geass is, in essence: infinite blessings, and infinite curses. A wish that cannot be forsaken by the one who harbors it. Lelouch looks upon him not as a king seated upon his throne, who seeks counsel from his knight, but as one man to another. Not at all infallible, but better off for it, speaking as he does from the heart. ]
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Enduring this arduously, Jeremiah must be the same. Something beyond his loyalty, that'd move him even in the depths of despair. In C.C. it was reciprocity, and in Suzaku it was atonement, but Lelouch can't ascribe a name to the feeling in himself. Sometimes, greed. Sometimes, generosity. And sometimes, risk, waiting here as the sun sinks lower and lower along the sky as if it wishes to be swallowed up by the earth. As Lelouch had once thought he'd be swallowed up by the grave, Nunnally's tears his very last regret. And Jeremiah— already out of his line of sight that day, carrying out his will to the last.
Lelouch huffs, too much air to properly culminate as laughter. Only a table separates them. Only the distance between his hand and Jeremiah's, his own set upon the table as the lampposts warm and glow, incandescent with light.
Jeremiah's eyes are so feverish from up close; like he's struggling to contain something that should split his breath with pain were he to voice it aloud, and still Lelouch presses on as if he is truly beholding his heart, rather than merely humoring his response. ]
And what is it that you've sought and found? Enlighten me.
[ Purpose, meaning? Those are things that can come from anyone, and anywhere. There's no glory to being at his side, nothing to champion. Only an endless, endless pursuit to topple the dreams of those who aspire to heights greater than what can contain them.
It's what geass is, in essence: infinite blessings, and infinite curses. A wish that cannot be forsaken by the one who harbors it. Lelouch looks upon him not as a king seated upon his throne, who seeks counsel from his knight, but as one man to another. Not at all infallible, but better off for it, speaking as he does from the heart. ]