Oh, Kate. So, I've been excited and terrified to comment on this since I finished reading, and I'll tell you why. I don't know that there's any compliment I can give that will do you justice or properly express how much I loved this fic. I really just want to hug you for it. Which is weird, I admit that! BUT KATE, KATE, YOU GIVE ME ALL THE FEELINGS. FEELINGS, KATE.
Okay, where to even begin? I'll start with Arthur - Arthur's good to start with. I love how you seem to see him from the inside out. You dig right into his incredible core, his strength and honor and nobility, and his courage and love, and project out from there, filtering all of Arthur's prickles and quirks through that inherently good center. His rough edges and foibles are so endearing through your eyes, frustrating yet lovable in that unique way Arthur has. You make me feel like what I imagine Merlin must feel like when he looks at Arthur, and I love caring for him that much, how sympathetic and complex and lovely he is in your hands. The thought that he was glad, if pained, that Merlin wasn't there for him in the end, or through his many reincarnations, because he was only concerned that Merlin stayed away from war and the things that made him unhappy in their first lives together? Was so obviously, clearly him that it hurt a little to read. And throughout the whole fic, the way his attention seemed almost equally divided between Merlin's well-being and their mission, his offer to leave the fighting behind for Merlin - the way his love for Merlin seemed to be the only thing that could ever rival his love for Albion? Woman. DDD: You break my heart, god. And this relates to my epic hearteyes for the way you treated the Gwen/Lancelot/Arthur plotline, but I'll get to that in a bit - I have such a tenuous grasp on coherency as it is. ^____^
And then there was Merlin! I think the thing I loved most about your Merlin was the sense of time he brought to the story, which I find terribly interesting, given that he's the only character that seems largely immune to the more obvious effects of time's passage. But that's part of what makes his relationship with the centuries that your fic covers so poignant. The only place we really see the way extended exposure to their (Arthur's and Merlin's) lifestyle impacts Merlin is in the slow degradation of his happiness, the way the years pile on guilt and doubts and depression like sediment. His depression was such a unique touch, and read so realistically that it made me ache for him, for them both. And I love that the questions and doubts Merlin suffers through aren't easily answered questions - that both he and Arthur have their points, and in their own ways are both exactly right. How are the characters meant to even reconcile the two perspectives? It created this great internal conflict that couldn't just be waved away with a wish or another victory or anything like that - arguably every step forward was another figurative nail in Merlin's figurative coffin, because while he might function alright so long as he's needed, what becomes of him when the need for him is satisfied and he's just left with what he's done? How does he measure what was truly necessary against what was simply effective, the sorts of decisions made in danger and war that aren't calculated but are reactive?
(lolol, omg. tbc when I get home, boo. goodness gracious!)
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Comment part 1, ahahaha ohgod.
Date: 2011-09-06 08:56 pm (UTC)Okay, where to even begin? I'll start with Arthur - Arthur's good to start with. I love how you seem to see him from the inside out. You dig right into his incredible core, his strength and honor and nobility, and his courage and love, and project out from there, filtering all of Arthur's prickles and quirks through that inherently good center. His rough edges and foibles are so endearing through your eyes, frustrating yet lovable in that unique way Arthur has. You make me feel like what I imagine Merlin must feel like when he looks at Arthur, and I love caring for him that much, how sympathetic and complex and lovely he is in your hands. The thought that he was glad, if pained, that Merlin wasn't there for him in the end, or through his many reincarnations, because he was only concerned that Merlin stayed away from war and the things that made him unhappy in their first lives together? Was so obviously, clearly him that it hurt a little to read. And throughout the whole fic, the way his attention seemed almost equally divided between Merlin's well-being and their mission, his offer to leave the fighting behind for Merlin - the way his love for Merlin seemed to be the only thing that could ever rival his love for Albion? Woman. DDD: You break my heart, god. And this relates to my epic hearteyes for the way you treated the Gwen/Lancelot/Arthur plotline, but I'll get to that in a bit - I have such a tenuous grasp on coherency as it is. ^____^
And then there was Merlin! I think the thing I loved most about your Merlin was the sense of time he brought to the story, which I find terribly interesting, given that he's the only character that seems largely immune to the more obvious effects of time's passage. But that's part of what makes his relationship with the centuries that your fic covers so poignant. The only place we really see the way extended exposure to their (Arthur's and Merlin's) lifestyle impacts Merlin is in the slow degradation of his happiness, the way the years pile on guilt and doubts and depression like sediment. His depression was such a unique touch, and read so realistically that it made me ache for him, for them both. And I love that the questions and doubts Merlin suffers through aren't easily answered questions - that both he and Arthur have their points, and in their own ways are both exactly right. How are the characters meant to even reconcile the two perspectives? It created this great internal conflict that couldn't just be waved away with a wish or another victory or anything like that - arguably every step forward was another figurative nail in Merlin's figurative coffin, because while he might function alright so long as he's needed, what becomes of him when the need for him is satisfied and he's just left with what he's done? How does he measure what was truly necessary against what was simply effective, the sorts of decisions made in danger and war that aren't calculated but are reactive?
(lolol, omg. tbc when I get home, boo. goodness gracious!)