"...Indeed. We all do." Ginshu's own smile fades and is replaced by something weary and inscrutable.
He's never heard Lavi speak with such a cold, detached voice, but it fits with what little he knows of bookmen. Their histories are complete, precise and objective, free from bias or moral justification. Unlike other works, which seek to influence the present by manipulating the past, bookman records are as steady and immutable as the flow of time itself. The only thing missing from their painstaking chronicles... is the name of the author. The author's name, personality and past aren't even worthy of a byline.
Whether flirting with acolytes or laughing about the naughty books in the library's restricted section, Lavi seemed like an ordinary, carefree young man... not unlike the person Ginshu himself had been many years ago. He'd even had the same flame-red hair back then. Ginshu had found it easy to empathize with someone else who'd been forced to bury his true self in the confines of duty and obligation... but what if the carefree young man had been the mask all along?
Ginshu lightly pats the book in his lap. "'History is all'... but that's not really true, is it? Take the author of this book, for instance. Historians have written at length about his career as a warrior, but it's only from his own words that we see him as clumsy poet who tried to make meaning at a time when his struggles must have seemed meaningless. Even the best records fail to capture every side of a person, or every side of a story."
no subject
He's never heard Lavi speak with such a cold, detached voice, but it fits with what little he knows of bookmen. Their histories are complete, precise and objective, free from bias or moral justification. Unlike other works, which seek to influence the present by manipulating the past, bookman records are as steady and immutable as the flow of time itself. The only thing missing from their painstaking chronicles... is the name of the author. The author's name, personality and past aren't even worthy of a byline.
Whether flirting with acolytes or laughing about the naughty books in the library's restricted section, Lavi seemed like an ordinary, carefree young man... not unlike the person Ginshu himself had been many years ago. He'd even had the same flame-red hair back then. Ginshu had found it easy to empathize with someone else who'd been forced to bury his true self in the confines of duty and obligation... but what if the carefree young man had been the mask all along?
Ginshu lightly pats the book in his lap. "'History is all'... but that's not really true, is it? Take the author of this book, for instance. Historians have written at length about his career as a warrior, but it's only from his own words that we see him as clumsy poet who tried to make meaning at a time when his struggles must have seemed meaningless. Even the best records fail to capture every side of a person, or every side of a story."