(no subject)

[lastgunslinger]

Out here, by the lake -- by where the door was -- Roland can sit on a nearby rock, knees pulled up to his chest, and say what needs to be said -- even though he will not say it out loud.

If he is thirsty, give him water in the clearing.
If he is hungry, give him food in the clearing.
May his life on this earth and the pain of his passing become as a dream to his waking soul, and let his eyes fall upon every lovely sight; let him find the friends that were lost to him, and let every one whose name he calls call his in return.
This was Joe, who lived well, loved his own, and died as ka would have it.
Each man owes a death. This was Joe. Give him peace.

He turns his head, rests it on his knees, and does his best not to think about anything in particular.

Comments

[sai_delgado]

She reaches out and puts her other hand on his head, stroking his hair in an attempt to give comfort.

(ka-tet it's not right that he should be alone)

"Aye. He were a good man indeed, say true. He knew-- he went to find thee when I first came, and he was ever kind to me. He told me tales of Africa, and gave-- gave--"

"He reminded me of thee, and he saved thy life, and I'll miss him ever--"

A deep, tearing breath.

"-- And I'm glad thee killed those who killed him."

[lastgunslinger]

If she weeps, it will undo him, and he can't have that. Won't have that.

And so he nods, head moving slightly against her hand. His grip on her other hand tightens momentarily.

There's nothing to say, right now.

[sai_delgado]

She breathes carefully, deeply, willing herself to stay calm-- she's cried so many tears this evening already, but Roland is the one who needs comfort now, say true.

She stays by his side, silently, and Susan continues stroking his hair.

[lastgunslinger]

Gently, Roland says, eyes still closed, "It is late, is it not?"

[sai_delgado]

"Aye, 'tis."

Her breath sighs out, and Susan says, "I couldn't sleep for thinking, so I thought mayhap I'd look in on Kiseki."

Not that he needs it, she knows, but it is something to do.

"And then I saw thee." A small shrug.

[lastgunslinger]

He nods, once, and his hand tightens around hers again.

"Will thee be well?"

Better to worry about his tet. Work cures grief.

[sai_delgado]

She nods as well, even though he can't see it. "Well enough, Roland, say true. Time--"

(is a face on the water)

"--helps, some, I know. As thee do."

For it's not the first loss Susan Delgado's suffered, nor Roland Deschain either, and she knows this very well.

[lastgunslinger]

No. Not the first loss.

But this is the first one that Roland has had time (and luxury) to grieve since...losing Susan.

"Time helps. You say true." A pause. "'Tis what I told Mina, the other night."

He knows it's true. Doesn't make it hurt any less in the meantime.

From the second letter: Give the will to Spike, I won't make you do that part.

A small sigh, now. Very small. He's tired.

[sai_delgado]

"Mayhap it'll help her to know it, oh aye."

She hears the sigh, and squeezes his hand gently.

"It's late, as thee said."

And sorrow weighs like a stone, burdensome and exhausting, Susan knows all too well.

"Can thee rest, do'ee think?"

[lastgunslinger]

Roland nods. He still has yet to open his eyes. "Can thee?"

[sai_delgado]

"Mayhap." She thinks about it briefly, and then says,

"Aye, I'd think so."

For tomorrow will bring its own cares, she knows, and time enough to face them, then.

[lastgunslinger]

He lifts his head, then, and stands, rising from his

(red)

rock.

"Then I think," says Roland, "that I will wish thee long days and pleasant nights, Sue."

A small, tired smile.

[sai_delgado]

She holds to his hand for a moment longer, and then lets go as he stands. Susan finds an answering smile, and says,

"May thee have twice the number, Roland."