[ Silco had nothing like this either -- not as a child anyway. He'd had plenty of dinners with his daughter, of course, but it had never resembled anything like this. It was downright idyllic, the kind of thing that he could imagine topside, but not down in the bowels of the undercity, in the fissures.
Perhaps as a boy, he would have felt the same kind of jealousy that Barnaby did. Instead, he only felt disgust, because it was so fondly remembered, instead of something important.
Thinks the guy who will literally give his life for his daughter, but we're not about to unpack all of that ]
Then why look at it?
[ He asked, actually genuinely curious. He'd looked at things that interested him -- battles, offices, great and grand works of revenge. But these calm, soft paintings, he felt no inclination to do so. If he had been jealous, perhaps it would have cut deeper, but then why do it? ]
no subject
Perhaps as a boy, he would have felt the same kind of jealousy that Barnaby did. Instead, he only felt disgust, because it was so fondly remembered, instead of something important.
Thinks the guy who will literally give his life for his daughter, but we're not about to unpack all of that]Then why look at it?
[ He asked, actually genuinely curious. He'd looked at things that interested him -- battles, offices, great and grand works of revenge. But these calm, soft paintings, he felt no inclination to do so. If he had been jealous, perhaps it would have cut deeper, but then why do it? ]