[Speaking to the Zenith shard-bearers beneath the tree really does make Liem feel like he's beset from all sides. From within, by his memories of the many ways in which even the world he loved could be cruel and unfair; by doubts about the outcome of Taldor's civil unrest, were he to resurrect it; by questions of whether returning the old Creation as it was is truly what his Lord would want. And without, by Jonathan's determination to lay his ruined world to rest; by Silco's refusal to let his people be revived only to be beaten down and oppressed; by the repeated insistence of everyone he speaks to that perhaps the cost of bringing back countless slain souls will be more than even the Oracles could bear.
It is enough to make him want to scream, to wail and gnash his teeth and sink them into whatever or whoever is nearest available. He cannot bear this unrelenting onslaught of doubt, beating itself against everything he has ever come to hold dear. If he has nothing left of the pleasant parts of his life, the things he's collected and held close throughout the pitiless demands of his duty, he may very well just break apart entirely.
His grip on the knife tightens, pale knuckles going bone-white. The look he's directing John's way as he approaches takes on a wilder, sharper edge.]
I don't think it is. I don't think it's that simple.
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It is enough to make him want to scream, to wail and gnash his teeth and sink them into whatever or whoever is nearest available. He cannot bear this unrelenting onslaught of doubt, beating itself against everything he has ever come to hold dear. If he has nothing left of the pleasant parts of his life, the things he's collected and held close throughout the pitiless demands of his duty, he may very well just break apart entirely.
His grip on the knife tightens, pale knuckles going bone-white. The look he's directing John's way as he approaches takes on a wilder, sharper edge.]
I don't think it is. I don't think it's that simple.