He thinks of Othello, the book, not the man. He thinks of the way he had been presented. The truth, yes, but so ugly and stained with blood.
He doesn't cry for Emilia. Or Desdamona. Or any of the other lives that were twisted and ruined by his words and schemes.
He doesn't regret it, what he did, but he is finally ready to hear the way that he can rewrite a new narrative. Something where he isn't the villain.
"Alright," he says and extends a hand to her. "Let's write a story."
He nods and pulls away, picking up his cup for a final drink.
"That's enough of that for a day. Breakfast tomorrow? I promise to be there this time," he chuckles.
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Re: After the Vincent convo
He thinks of Othello, the book, not the man. He thinks of the way he had been presented. The truth, yes, but so ugly and stained with blood.
He doesn't cry for Emilia. Or Desdamona. Or any of the other lives that were twisted and ruined by his words and schemes.
He doesn't regret it, what he did, but he is finally ready to hear the way that he can rewrite a new narrative. Something where he isn't the villain.
"Alright," he says and extends a hand to her. "Let's write a story."
Re: After the Vincent convo
"Let's write a story," she says back.
Re: After the Vincent convo
He nods and pulls away, picking up his cup for a final drink.
"That's enough of that for a day. Breakfast tomorrow? I promise to be there this time," he chuckles.
Re: After the Vincent convo
"Plenty of excitement for today. See you tomorrow for breakfast, Iago."