I was thinking about how Spock is intentionally paralleled with Sydney Carton from A Tale of Two Cities in The Wrath of Khan, and now I am unwell!
At the beginning of the movie, Spock famously gives Kirk A Tale of Two Cities as a birthday present. This book was specifically included for its themes of sacrifice and resurrection, which obviously mirror Spock’s decision to give up his life to save the crew. Notably, Kirk’s final lines reference the famous closing of the novel.
Kirk: It is a far, far better thing I do than I have ever done before... a far better resting in place I go to than I have ever known...
Carol: is that a poem?
Kirk: Something Spock was trying to tell me. On my birthday.
So what’s the importance of this line? The famous “far better thing” quote is from the book’s ending when Carton has just sacrificed himself for his beloved Lucie, giving himself up to be executed in place of her husband so that she may find happiness. (Live long and prosper, anyone?)
Interestingly, both Spock and Carton are emotionally repressed characters, and anguish over the depth of their love for the people who uniquely see them for who they are — in this case, Jim and Lucie. While I’d argue that Spock is more at peace with himself and his feelings for Jim after the events of the first movie, the point still stands that Jim is the one to truly understand him in a world that labels him as a cold and calculating being.
I believe that this is what Kirk’s line calling Spock’s soul “the most human I have ever encountered,” is supposed to represent. (Even though I agree with the criticism that it could have been worded better!) Similarly, Lucie is the one to recognize Carton’s inner nature in spite of his aloof facade, begging “I would ask you to believe that [Carton] has a heart he very, very seldom reveals, and that there are deep wounds in it.” (Book 2, Chapter 20.)
When Carton finally admits his love to Lucie, it’s hard not to see the resemblance to Spock’s dilemma in the first movie. You know, that time when Spock, in his heartbreak over something related to Jim (that were not given an explanation for), cries out “Jim! Good-bye my . . . my t’hy’la. This is the last time I will permit myself to think of you or even your name again!” before attempting to purge himself of all feelings in an ancient ritual, and failing because the Vulcan priestess can totally sense that he’s still thinking about Kirk. (Yup, that totally straight time!)
Well, Carton is in a similarly agonizing predicament, because he can’t get his feelings for Lucie to go away. He tells her, “I break down before the knowledge of what I want to say to you” and “I have had the weakness, and have still the weakness, to wish you to know with what a sudden mastery you kindled me, heap of ashes that I am, into fire—a fire, however, inseparable in its nature from myself, quickening nothing, lighting nothing, doing no service, idly burning away.” (Book 2, Chapter 13)
He also expresses that he could never separate his love for her from himself, saying that “Within myself, I shall always be, towards you, what I am now.” (Book 2, Chapter 13) Yeah, I know the fact this mirrors Spock’s famous “I have been and always shall be yours” is probably a coincidence, but I’ll be damned if I don’t mention it.
Finally, Carton expresses his love for her in his willingness to sacrifice himself for her sake: “For you, and for any dear to you, I would do anything. If my career were of that better kind that there was any opportunity or capacity of sacrifice in it, I would embrace any sacrifice for you and for those dear to you… there is a man who would give his life, to keep a life you love beside you!” (Book 2, Chapter 13.) Of course, Carton’s story ends when he sacrifices himself for her, fulfilling this promise. Hmm, now who else does that sound like?
This is definitely not a perfect parallel: Spock doesn’t start out as a lazy alcoholic, although there is an argument to be made that Carton’s low self-worth reflects Spock’s before he went on his conversion therapy fueled journey of self discovery. Additionally, I wouldn’t say that Spock’s love for Kirk is unrequited like Carton’s for Lucie, (as evidenced by many things, but I’ll primarily point to the events of The Motion Picture and The Search for Spock), but you could potentially cast Carol in the role of Darnay, Lucie’s husband.
The most important thing to glean from this is that Spock was very deliberately set up to be the Carton figure, which is interesting given that Carton’s actions are driven by his willingness to do anything to see his beloved be happy and prosper.
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Die Alone Together [Placeholder Name; DRAFT]
A Cult of The Lamb fic (my AU)
There I lay, crouched in the grass, clinging to myself desperately; falling, falling, falling... my mind miles below the soil in which I cowered. The moment I fell to my knees, there became of time this... dissonance, a rift between it and space, and though the ground caught me, I never quite stopped falling- falling away from myself, from this place, and into a memory; miles away from here, years, suspended in an unreachable past and yet frozen in the present. For my dissociation, I could hardly think but one thing:
I was too late.
They're all-
I could scarcely hear myself screaming, nor could I feel the tears stinging my cheeks, nor the burn in my lungs or the ache in my legs from the fighting; my body did not and does not feel like my own. I am not in it. Everything felt distant as I held myself, and as I drew the corpse of one of my own to my chest, I realized how far this place had become from my home.
'They're all dead.'
And I will never get them back.
I don't know how long I laid there for, but I do remember thinking myself damned to the same fate, trapped in the same place; that I'd die there, alongside my brethren, eventually- in some way. I couldn't bring myself to leave them, not even to stand, and had little reason to think anyone would find nor save me. I was alone in the depths of Darkwood, miles away from any living thing- who could possibly hear my crying? I could hardly hear myself, and any person who might would surely, in devotion to the Bishops of the Old Faith, to the Worm, Leshy, end my life.
That is, or so I thought.
There was movement, rustling, in the brush surrounding me, and I was suddenly aware of just how loud I had been mourning, and, consequently, of the fearful silence that followed- but I did not move. I was not frozen in fear, at least not completely, more I was complacent; maybe someone had heard me, and I was going to die here. In a way, I deserved to. Perhaps dying the same way my friends, my found family, had would honor them, perhaps it would free me.
So I stayed. I stayed right where I was, amongst the remains of my community and embracing the body, only turning my head up to look in the direction of the sound, to see my assailant and face them head-on, if only for a moment. I dared not stand nor speak, I just patiently awaited in trepidation whatever fate it'd be to befall me.
It was quiet again for a moment as I stared into the shadowed flora, but then, not only could I hear the crackling of leaves on the forest floor, I could see someone, something, moving towards me. I drew in a sharp, panicked breath despite myself and held it as I watched the cloaked figure step into the clearing and catch sight of me.
I could feel my breath hitch yet again as I made eye contact with what seemed to be a child, at least no older than me, donning the crown of my god, and... not just a child- at that, a lamb?
I knew my face betrayed me; I was never known for my poker face, and despite my position, now was no different. I could not hide my confusion, for it had been years since anyone had seen a lamb. I thought- as we all did- that the Bishops had caused their extinction. The lamb's eyes were dark, stoic- nearly expressionless, if not for the silent and subtle shock at the sight before them; had it been any darker, I would not have noticed. I stared back with exceptional surprise but equal intensity. I did not ask.
Neither did they.
"What is your name?" They spoke softly, their hooves visibly unarmed and reaching towards me in, be it genuine or not, seeming good manner, the bell clasped to their cloak jingling quietly with every step.
"What are you going to do with me?" I diverted; they were a lamb, a living lamb, likely the last of their kind- and better yet, their crown… not to mention that they held no weapon that I could see- but even so, after everything I had gone through, and they as well, I could not be certain of their intentions. It was not in my favor to let down my guard, not with such ease.
They blinked slowly, taking another step my way. "Be not afraid, I mean well. Did he," Their smile faltered, no gesture necessary. "do this?"
"...If you mean Leshy, then I suppose. At least, his following. I," I felt my brow furrow as I forced myself to speak through gritted teeth. "was not here to see."
"Ah."
"You didn't answer my question." My voice cracked; for my tears earlier, I could hardly speak. It was only then I realized that I had never let go of the body- and with this realization, instinctively, I pulled it closer to me.
"Nor did you answer mine."
A beat.
"Your name?"
"Oh. My name is..." My hesitance was not to save face, nor to deceive- I could give a false name to “protect” myself and hide my identity, but if this lamb were to kill me, pretending would do nothing to lengthen my life, it couldn't truly protect me- rather, I was weighing my options, deciding my fate in the only way I knew I could. To continue as I had, or-
I looked down at the doe clasped to my breast: her eyes, lifeless, and lips slightly parted by her final breath. “Fern. My name is Fern," I decided, to honor her, not a lie now that it'd been spoken, but not the truth. If they meant what they said, that they were not here to hurt me, maybe, just maybe, this would be my chance to start anew. I did not turn my head to the lamb again; I let my eyes flutter shut and my head hang low, loosening my grip on the carcass to hold her face in my claws.
“...And yours?"
I could barely choke the last two words out.
"Fern… a pretty name!" Their smile, so mellow, in stark contrast to the death around us, struck me- I could not decide whether it was comforting or off putting in the moment. Again, they reached out their hand. "You may call me Lamb.”
This time I did look up; I watched them cautiously, my eyes shifting from their outstretched hoof, which I still refused to take, to their face.
‘Just… “Lamb”?’ I thought to myself, but said nothing. The question, I decided, was one likely better left unspoken.
“Okay, Lamb- your turn.” I interjected, changing the subject, or at least trying to, for what time now I had lost count. “What do you plan to do with me? Why spare me and not just kill me already?”
“No one deserves to meet a violent end. You deserve to have a choice in the matter; I can't, however, deny having an ulterior motive,” their smile never faltered as my eyes burned a hole through their own. “Would you rather me kill you, or to run away and hide before I have the chance? Or rather, the most forgiving of your options, would you like-” they adjourned, their eyes glinting wildly, still holding contact with my own. “to join me?”
“...Join… you?”
“It isn't safe in Darkwood- though I needn't tell you that- and it isn't much safer in any other of the Bishops’ domains. I can offer you shelter; for a price, of course, but a small one. All I ask for is your loyalty, and your devotion- to me, and to my god.”
“You're asking me… to join your religion?”
“Offering, yes. I won't force you. It is your decision, after all- granted, it is the safest, and in my… qualified opinion, smartest choice of the three.”
“And if I decline?” A face on my behalf, more out of curiosity than defiance.
“Again, I won't force you. But would you truly rather die, or spend your life running, only to lose it to one of them in the end, than to stand by my side? A side you should, in theory, have no hard time taking?”
Any argument I could have made, not that I had one nor any intention of refusing (because what choice did I really have?), was instantly, with ease, brought to a screeching halt. Their honesty, their sharp words and rightful, righteous confidence shook me thoroughly, to my very core; that last statement, a confirmation of my only suspicion. They didn't ask, but they knew. I said nothing, but they knew, and when the realization of their admittance donned on my features, they were more than aware that I knew, too. It was like telepathy, a secret passed silently between us, fate drawing me in.
“I am tired of running.”
“Then? I’m giving you an opportunity you can't possibly refuse.” Their expression darkened, their smile, different now- more serious, more grave; the weight of my situation coming back to me once more, and hitting me like a freight train. “Take my hand and join me, join my cult. You will be safe in the commune, and you can take your life back into your own hands.”
And with this- I looked again from their hoof to their twisted smile and somehow, despite the ominous air about them, emanating from the red crown atop their head, I knew that I’d be safe, or safest, with them- I, reluctant to let go and with a final embrace, laid the doe down in a patch of softer looking grass, and took the Lamb's hand.
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