milliways_bar | (no subject)

She does not squash.

She just stares, smiling.

"Most people don't, gunslinger. I amuse them, or I scare them. They placate me, or they cower, or they're too nice and never tell me what they think, or they never realize that even though I'm the baby of the family, I'm still older than the oldest god, and I know things. I'm not a child. But they treat me like one."

And Del smiles more widely.

"Thankee-sai."

Roland nods.

"Those people are fools."

He's scared of her, too, of course. He's been hers before. But the fear isn't debilitating. It generates respect.

Roland knows when he's outgunned.

"Those people are my family."

"People are dumb, when it comes to family. Screwy thing."

The vibrator is taken away, say sorry, and instead he's handed a flower.

Not a rose.

It's just a daisy.

If there is woe connected with daisies from the Dark Tower, THE MUN IS SORRY, but she doesn't know.

She does suspect that grilled cheese sandwiches are Dark Tower woe, though, because EVERYTHING IS, and thus, wouldn't be surprised.

No woe that I know of.

And Roland smiles.

"Say thankya, lady. And yes. You say true. Love stumbles."

"You are welcome, Roland. You're kinda a bastard. But you're a good man."

This is a compliment.

Roland shakes his head a little. "At being good I was always a little too slow."

"Hence the bastard bit." She shrugs.

"Sides. You're the hero man. Heroes don't get to be good all the time. They can't do the hard things if they are. All heroes have to be bastards."

"At least a little," Roland agrees. "Part of the job."

Pause.

"I'd hear, lady, if you'd tell -- you've changed. Will those who belong to you change as well?"

"River."

Silence.

"How?"

"I am insane, gunslinger. That's never going to change."

Del looks at the air and draws words in Sanskrit on it as she speaks.

"But it doesn't have to hurt. There are levels, there are degrees. River may change. Not quite yet. Not all at once. But it may happen. She is one of mine, and always will be. But the darker patches of my realm are easier to break out of now than once they were. Not easy. But easier."

More silence.

"She'll never be well."

"No."

Roland stares at his hands.

He'll never tell Simon. He'll never tell

(mo cuishle)

River.

He wants to kill Gabriel Tam.

Slowly, and barehanded.

Roland stares at his hands.

"Del stands for two things. Delirium. Delight." Gently.

"Well? No. But she may be happy. I would have her so."

"She'll never be a gunslinger. She can't carry iron as she is."

Controlled.

Grief leaks through anyway.

"Didn't say that."

Roland looks up.

"What do you mean, lady?"

"You say she can't be a gunslinger like she is. I told you that River will change. Better in perfect health is kinda out of the picture. But can be better. I told her brother once I'd let her go as much as I could. Still would. Will. But it's not all the way. It's like holding your breath under the sea. Still a mammal. Still a creature of the air, still need to rise up and take breaths of oxygen to continue. But in between, you can function under the water, even thought you're not a fish."

Roland considers this.

"I've been yours before. You know that." Pause. "And when I was, I...wouldn't let myself bear weapons. There was the chance I'd profane them -- lash out and harm those who didn't deserve it. And I'd see her as well as she can be, for her brother's sake."

A quiet sigh.

"Talent demands to be used, lady. That's all." He sounds tired.

"Yeah, I know." To all, then Del flops on the floor, crosslegged and thinking.

"No one deserves things. Not really. Ka doesn't think like that. It's not a balancing karma act all the time. Plates spinning all about on the sticks, and sometimes they just crash cause they do. Gravity's the explanation, but it ain't necessarily so, childe. I don't pick. Not like the others, not from before birth. Don't pick, don't claim, just wait until someone comes into my realm and try and hug 'em if they want it, and if not, um. Well. I have bugs and birds and butterflies and bile and they're fun. But yeah, no. Y'know Susannah's kinda one of mine, yeah? Was. But you never really get over. You don't recover, you're always recovering. One foot remains in the grave, even when the vamps claw their way out to the moon. Just is."

Roland listens to all this.

"Yes." Quiet. "I knew she was. Is. I've always been close to those you claim, lady."

"Freud might say that there's a reason for that, Roland Deschain."

"Freud was an asshole. He annoyed me so much. Anyway. And any way. You seriously need to get laid and have a date with, like, flowers and chocolates and goofy ties and maybe you being all cheerful and nervous and possibly walking on sunshine cause it feels good, don't it."

"That was supposed to be internalized. I'm not so good at that. Oops. Um."

"...I like frogs?"

This is Del's way of saying, "My train of thought has not only been lost, it's off telling riddles somewhere. Say sorry."

Roland smiles a little. "Fleur would say the same. She has said the same."

"Then why aren't you listening?"