Truth was that Valo had felt very self righteous in his words. A man who believed he knew all the answers, for his mind was claw with clarity comparing to that of Ricky. No clouds of emotion obstructed his view. He perhaps believed that if he was in the same situation, he'd have coped so much better. Was that truth? Of course not, for if anything close to Valo ceased it's existence, he'd have been just as broken a man as Ricky. Hell, even witnessing of a complete stranger's death would take it's toll on Valo's fragile mind as the future would show. A fool he was in his self assurance. A fool he was for expecting those pretty words of his to make any difference, for he could not so simply wash away the pain of Ricky's past and no words could be spoken to numb it. He was useless in this situation and blind to that fact.
There was something else that he wanted to say. Perhaps if he was able, he'd have told Ricky that be did not belong in Odis' place, for whereas the fisherman could live without his dog; the dog would be nothing without his fisherman. Alone and lost in the world. He wanted to tell Ricky that he was not alone and never would be, no matter how hard he ever chose to believe that. The words however did not leave his lips. The words with so much good intention behind them, spoken in the purity of heart, yet empty of any real substance. Unsubstantial in nature, for Valo had no experience of his own in the ordeal. He knew not the pain nor the anguish, thus he knew not in reality how to successfully empathise. The only tool was his imagination and that was insufficient. Pure of purpose yet utmost powerless.
It was the gaze of those crystalline blue eyes - as blue as tears of the ocean, now frozen into round gems - into his own that halted the artist in his words. Eyes that were the windows of the soul. a pure soul, a good soul, torn by fate, hacked at by memories and paint that they brought. Eyes that could not be cured by word alone, or the most noble of action. Eyes that Valo could not fix, for they were no torn canvas, no mistaken hue, they were eyes of a dear friend that now stared at him in utmost serious manner.
And just like that all of Valo's good intention collapsed. The glass structure of wisdom which he was, broken by this piercing stare, collapsing into the abyss of the fool he was. And all of his boldness and charisma which he had worked so meticulously in his youth to acquire, now lay forgotten and he felt like a child. A helpless child wound by his very helplessness. A foot past the line. A thought; he should not have said what he said, perhaps. He should have simply kept his mouth shut for it was none of his business in all entirely. A foot over the line. It was not his place. And in that belief he fixed him self.
"Don't worry your self with my issues." spoke Ricky, his tone saturated by the very lack of emotion, blankness, impassive and simple. Few blunt words that, though perhaps meant in good spirit, to Valo seemed as if he was plainly getting told of for sticking his nose in Ricky's business. Defeat.
The artist's lip parted, before sending his eyes plummeting into the wood of the table in bitter surrendering. Unsure quite what t think any more. Embarrassed perhaps, that he was to make such naive remarks, solemn. "Ricky, I..." he spoke quietly. Sentence broken, realising he spoke with much haste and he knew not truly how to end it. No elaborate eloquence came to him. No sufficient way to convey his thought and so, with much regret he was forced for the simplest of words that described it all, but was frighteningly insufficient. The magnitude of Valo's intention could not be conveyed through such simplicity, only it's nature. "... I'm sorry. I should not have..."
Alas he propelled him self from the chair, groggily. The fire in his manner muted into nothing but a barely glowing ember. Still elegant, but muted. Unable to look Ricky in the eyes fore more than a quick glance. "I suppose I should be on my way, dear friend. I hope you do forgive me. Good night." He shot Ricky a final glance that was saturated with apologetic sadness. Shall the bear man express his wish for him to stay, he would and gladly so. But otherwise a simple exit would be in order. A shameful exit.
There was something else that he wanted to say. Perhaps if he was able, he'd have told Ricky that be did not belong in Odis' place, for whereas the fisherman could live without his dog; the dog would be nothing without his fisherman. Alone and lost in the world. He wanted to tell Ricky that he was not alone and never would be, no matter how hard he ever chose to believe that. The words however did not leave his lips. The words with so much good intention behind them, spoken in the purity of heart, yet empty of any real substance. Unsubstantial in nature, for Valo had no experience of his own in the ordeal. He knew not the pain nor the anguish, thus he knew not in reality how to successfully empathise. The only tool was his imagination and that was insufficient. Pure of purpose yet utmost powerless.
It was the gaze of those crystalline blue eyes - as blue as tears of the ocean, now frozen into round gems - into his own that halted the artist in his words. Eyes that were the windows of the soul. a pure soul, a good soul, torn by fate, hacked at by memories and paint that they brought. Eyes that could not be cured by word alone, or the most noble of action. Eyes that Valo could not fix, for they were no torn canvas, no mistaken hue, they were eyes of a dear friend that now stared at him in utmost serious manner.
And just like that all of Valo's good intention collapsed. The glass structure of wisdom which he was, broken by this piercing stare, collapsing into the abyss of the fool he was. And all of his boldness and charisma which he had worked so meticulously in his youth to acquire, now lay forgotten and he felt like a child. A helpless child wound by his very helplessness. A foot past the line. A thought; he should not have said what he said, perhaps. He should have simply kept his mouth shut for it was none of his business in all entirely. A foot over the line. It was not his place. And in that belief he fixed him self.
"Don't worry your self with my issues." spoke Ricky, his tone saturated by the very lack of emotion, blankness, impassive and simple. Few blunt words that, though perhaps meant in good spirit, to Valo seemed as if he was plainly getting told of for sticking his nose in Ricky's business. Defeat.
The artist's lip parted, before sending his eyes plummeting into the wood of the table in bitter surrendering. Unsure quite what t think any more. Embarrassed perhaps, that he was to make such naive remarks, solemn. "Ricky, I..." he spoke quietly. Sentence broken, realising he spoke with much haste and he knew not truly how to end it. No elaborate eloquence came to him. No sufficient way to convey his thought and so, with much regret he was forced for the simplest of words that described it all, but was frighteningly insufficient. The magnitude of Valo's intention could not be conveyed through such simplicity, only it's nature. "... I'm sorry. I should not have..."
Alas he propelled him self from the chair, groggily. The fire in his manner muted into nothing but a barely glowing ember. Still elegant, but muted. Unable to look Ricky in the eyes fore more than a quick glance. "I suppose I should be on my way, dear friend. I hope you do forgive me. Good night." He shot Ricky a final glance that was saturated with apologetic sadness. Shall the bear man express his wish for him to stay, he would and gladly so. But otherwise a simple exit would be in order. A shameful exit.
