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"He is surrounded by the Marked, once again. As always. He has always been so close. (He considers sketching another self-portrait and setting it in the center of the room, to complete the image, but that would be melodramatic.)" Sokolov still doesn't have the Outsider's attention - but the being quietly and viciously begins letting him know he's watching.
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"Sokolov finally gets the Outsider's attention; the Outsider dedicates itself to annoying the hell out of him."
theisleisfullofnoises Sun 09 Aug 2015 07:29PM AEST
I really love this piece. It's a great character study, and a very true capture of the eerie and grotesque world and people in my opinion. It really did make me think about why people were chosen, just who would catch the eye of a capricious god for a spark of relief in eternal tedium. You laid it out so elegantly.
After all, don't we prefer the heroes who persevere beyond the rational, who gamble with lives and cleave to goals with nothing but luck, skill, and a hell of a lot of guts? Nobody reads a tale about the boy who did everything he was supposed to and didn't sell that cow for a sack of beans; or the prince who realized that honestly, the odds of rescuing that princess where ridiculously low and shouldn't he be investing time in learning matters of state? And Sokolov does so pride himself on being a rational man.
But really, it is just so satisfying to see Sokolov lose his shit, that arrogant sociopathic dick
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Bookmark Notes:
Sokolov can see hazy chimneys and hazier smoke through the warped glass of the greenhouse walls. Corvo’s head is bowed, and his gloves are off and his right hand cradles his left. His fingers have traced over the mark all the time he has been speaking. He’d mentioned a dream of broken streets and targets far below and falling and it had flared gold, once, and Sokolov had needed to catch himself not to lean forward; but apart from that the magic is still. Corvo is very still. Sokolov is attentively still, not taking notes, and the only movement in the room is the centimeter-by-centimeter movement of the mad Pandyssian flowers and the vibration of the air with the Lord Protector’s words and with the soft, mechanical whirring of the audiograph.
And now the sun is sinking over the rooftops and the light in the room is otherworldly as the Void of which Corvo has been speaking, and his voice peters out, and then there is no motion in the room at all.
The tape clicks. Stutters to a stop. It is the sixth time this has happened. Sokolov does not move to replace it.
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Sokolov wants to be one of the Outsider’s Marked. The Outsider isn’t interested.
Incredible descriptions, a fantastic perspective, excellent characterization, and an impeccable sense of humor. -
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