This is Not Robert Longshore - The Memoirs of the Fulcrum of Fate

Part Three: The Nature of Chaos – The Allure “ R ight.” I do my best presage of the Thinking Man, only flat on my back. “And what is that? Destroying the Church?” “ Is that what you think Metus is afraid of?” Peitho asks at my side. I don't answer immediately. Something like, I don't think about what Metus is afraid of, is on the tip of my tongue, but I keep it to myself. Not because it wouldn't do anything to move the conversation along – and definitely not because it wasn't something nice to say and my mother would prefer I said nothing at all. So what I say instead is: “ I think... I think we have to wonder what this moment could mean to the people involved. The Carolingians are gone. Or they will be, effectively, in another generation. There's no way that Louis survives to adulthood in the East and They don't call him Charles the Simple to his face because he's a particularly complex guy.” “ All right. What are you suggesting?” “ I'm su...

  Part Two: Two Sides of a Coin I look down at Peitho with just my eyes.                                      She's looking up at me. “ Is Metus working for Order and are you working for Chaos?” She doesn't blink. Doesn't flinch. But she doesn't answer immediately, either. “ He keeps asking. Forgive me, Matere, but I am compelled to answer.” Before I can wonder at this little prayer she whispers, Peitho says, entirely to me, “It is hard to say. Working for? Am I working for Chaos? I do not know. I am working for my Family, my Sisters, my Mother.” “ But you think that Metus represents Order in some way,” I press. “ Why are you convinced that I must represent Chaos?” I laugh to myself. A damsel in distress is always Chaos. “ Call it a hunch.” “ And how does that make you feel about me?” “ I'm not running, screaming yet, am I?” “ Anymore, you mean.” ...

  Episode Six: Nothing Actionable Part One: Being Right for the Wrong Reasons B y that night, after a long day of restless dreams,      all I know is that more than anything what I want is to tangle myself up in Peitho and forget all about Pepin and magick and wars. The only choice I want to make is to take her and disappear. Forever. But I can't do that, can I? She wouldn't come. It is remarkable how similar this night is to those two previous. If I didn't know better, I could tell myself I'd never left Verona. That these nights were just dreams. I guess I still could, for that matter. Not that it would do any good. The End is coming, whether I acknowledge what day it is and where I am on the oblate spheroid or not. We're laid out in the grass. I'm reclining with my arms crossed behind my head so that really only they are touching the tree at all. Peitho is lying with her legs wrapped around mine, head and hands against my chest. I ...