Happiness is not an ideal of reason but of imagination
Crack went the ice, even though they were right, even though they did the work, they solved the riddle - it didn't matter (-did nothing matter anymore?-) they were drifting, the Chief reaching for his friend (Neron) instinctively. But distance stretched before them, and he heard the instructions given, frowning all the while, turning upon his personal icy shelf to hear the tale Falke spoke. The confession shook him to his core, and he swallowed upon hearing it, nodding to register that he'd heard it.
He'd never been one to lie, to tell a tale of untruths, to weave a story of make-believe - he was hardly creative enough, too logical and scientific, he could only ever tell things for what they were. He looked to Neron, but then looked away, too ashamed to share this with one he felt so close to - it was easier to confess to a stranger, under the guise and comfort of anonymity. ToFalke, he said: "I went to the Climb already, to find where my lover died, and to join her there if I could."
--
Chuy tells Falke the truth.
He'd never been one to lie, to tell a tale of untruths, to weave a story of make-believe - he was hardly creative enough, too logical and scientific, he could only ever tell things for what they were. He looked to Neron, but then looked away, too ashamed to share this with one he felt so close to - it was easier to confess to a stranger, under the guise and comfort of anonymity. To
--
Chuy tells Falke the truth.
CHULANE
