'And did I tell you,' asked the old woman, 'there is no need for you to hold your hate for Loveworthy or your contempt for her or your anger at her?'
'You see, there is no amount of hate or contempt or anger that you can direct toward her that she does not level in equal and greater measure toward her self. None.'
'Hopefully, you are satisfied with that,' she declared, eyes ablaze with mirth. 'Or do you need more? Do you need to exact yet more vengence to heal your own wounds?!'
'Tell me!' she shouted. 'What more could you possibly want?! What deep chord of discontent inside you was struck when Loveworthy learned who she was? And, why do you insist on targeting her as blameworthy for your own wounds?'
'Do you really think this perpetual war against a broken woman will heal you? Does it satisfy some deep sickness in you to see her anguish?! When will it be enough?'
Tears filled the lines that marbled her face. 'So old am I, and yet so astonished after all these years, to see the enmity that is humankind. I wanted, before I go, to witness the love that Loveworth dreamed possible. I wanted to take to my grave stories of human compassion and kindness such that the gods would smile. Yet, I have nothing for the parting cept the dry bones of a long-dead child, whispers of dreams unfilled and dark contempt layered thick against my heart.'
'And you,' she asked 'what have you?'
'You see, there is no amount of hate or contempt or anger that you can direct toward her that she does not level in equal and greater measure toward her self. None.'
'Hopefully, you are satisfied with that,' she declared, eyes ablaze with mirth. 'Or do you need more? Do you need to exact yet more vengence to heal your own wounds?!'
'Tell me!' she shouted. 'What more could you possibly want?! What deep chord of discontent inside you was struck when Loveworthy learned who she was? And, why do you insist on targeting her as blameworthy for your own wounds?'
'Do you really think this perpetual war against a broken woman will heal you? Does it satisfy some deep sickness in you to see her anguish?! When will it be enough?'
Tears filled the lines that marbled her face. 'So old am I, and yet so astonished after all these years, to see the enmity that is humankind. I wanted, before I go, to witness the love that Loveworth dreamed possible. I wanted to take to my grave stories of human compassion and kindness such that the gods would smile. Yet, I have nothing for the parting cept the dry bones of a long-dead child, whispers of dreams unfilled and dark contempt layered thick against my heart.'
'And you,' she asked 'what have you?'
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