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Most people wish I was...
Sep. 30th, 2005 05:39 pm*Historian's note: From the chronicles of Londo Mollari, written in the fifth year of his reign*
"Most people wish I was dead,"
I said to G'Kar when during his most recent visit, he called me a Narn term that roughly translates as a mixture between a coward and a courtesan, always giving in to the wishes of either the highest paying customer or the biggest bully, often united in the same person.
"And yet, to this day, I have not accomodated their wishes. I defy you not to call the solid majority of the population the galaxy has to offer anything but the highest paying customer or the biggest bully around, yes?"
"Mollari,"
he said,
"as always, you're overestimating yourself. I dare say most of my people wish you had died, but then, they wish the same thing on every Centauri. You are not in any way or form special. As for your own people, given their talent in murder and backstabbing, I dare say they would have found a way to rid the universe of you if that was truly their wish."
I have missed him.
True, I miss everyone, and have taken care to keep those who return the feeling at as much distance as I can for their safety, but I still get reports from Vir on a regular basis. That is undoubtedly one of many reasons why I made him the ambassador. I still hear from Timov - the universe would cease to be if Timov did not find a way to make her utter disapproval of my existence known to me - even after I sent her into exile, as I had to. But when G'Kar chose to gallavant around the universe with Ms Alexander, he removed himself from any kind of contact whatsoever. I should have been happy about this; leaving aside his neverending ability to annoy, this meant he was well and truly safe from the Drakh, more so than any of the others. And yet the lack of any communication from G'Kar made any relief I felt about this taste like ashes. When I heard he was once more among us, I indulged in the liberty that getting solidly drunk offers for an entire afternoon.
This was, of course, before he came here, realised, or thought he did, what had happened, and started with the flattery that forms the unique charm of everyone's favourite overrated author of how-to-become-a-prophet-and-irritate-people-even-more, which surely is what "The Book of G'Kar" should truly be called. Now, I hardly know how I managed to survive without him, which brings me back to the original topic.
"You underestimate,"
I said ,
"my contrariness. There is something strangely inspiring in being hated so much, G'Kar. The joy of frustrating one's opponents defeats even the allure of oblivion."
He looked at me, shook his head, and suddenly smiled.
"I missed you too, Mollari."
"Most people wish I was dead,"
I said to G'Kar when during his most recent visit, he called me a Narn term that roughly translates as a mixture between a coward and a courtesan, always giving in to the wishes of either the highest paying customer or the biggest bully, often united in the same person.
"And yet, to this day, I have not accomodated their wishes. I defy you not to call the solid majority of the population the galaxy has to offer anything but the highest paying customer or the biggest bully around, yes?"
"Mollari,"
he said,
"as always, you're overestimating yourself. I dare say most of my people wish you had died, but then, they wish the same thing on every Centauri. You are not in any way or form special. As for your own people, given their talent in murder and backstabbing, I dare say they would have found a way to rid the universe of you if that was truly their wish."
I have missed him.
True, I miss everyone, and have taken care to keep those who return the feeling at as much distance as I can for their safety, but I still get reports from Vir on a regular basis. That is undoubtedly one of many reasons why I made him the ambassador. I still hear from Timov - the universe would cease to be if Timov did not find a way to make her utter disapproval of my existence known to me - even after I sent her into exile, as I had to. But when G'Kar chose to gallavant around the universe with Ms Alexander, he removed himself from any kind of contact whatsoever. I should have been happy about this; leaving aside his neverending ability to annoy, this meant he was well and truly safe from the Drakh, more so than any of the others. And yet the lack of any communication from G'Kar made any relief I felt about this taste like ashes. When I heard he was once more among us, I indulged in the liberty that getting solidly drunk offers for an entire afternoon.
This was, of course, before he came here, realised, or thought he did, what had happened, and started with the flattery that forms the unique charm of everyone's favourite overrated author of how-to-become-a-prophet-and-irritate-people-even-more, which surely is what "The Book of G'Kar" should truly be called. Now, I hardly know how I managed to survive without him, which brings me back to the original topic.
"You underestimate,"
I said ,
"my contrariness. There is something strangely inspiring in being hated so much, G'Kar. The joy of frustrating one's opponents defeats even the allure of oblivion."
He looked at me, shook his head, and suddenly smiled.
"I missed you too, Mollari."
