Looking at all this from Vervain's perspective is so...man.
Because yeah sure, there was some animosity between him and Campion before, most of it due Vervain's pettiness but he wasn't obsessed with him until he saw Campion talking with the outsiders - that's when he is trying to prove that he is a traitor.
But he does not randomly point fingers. It's always when Campion did something. Heck, he made good points regarding his sudden appearance of the shining wires.
But then? He gets declared as deranged later, but turns out Campion was a spy after all. Of course he is going to laugh at his death because earlier in that episode people still thought he was insane.
And even as the truth is finally out that Campion is a traitor, the general just calls him a liar - Campion's name will be legend.
He is trying so hard to convince his chief that Campion was a traitor. I don't think it even has something to do with jealousy anymore, not after Vervain got a taste of his own medicine. This is about that he was right, that he got, in his eyes, judged unfairly.
But then later, Campion returns and the general falls for the same trick again. If I was in Vervain's shoes, then yeah, I would be incredibly frustrated with my boss as well. Vervain had to make a whole confession about him being a traitor, a coward, being weak but all it took was for Campion to be melodramatic and the general was like "haha mood. welcome back"
Dude doesn't even stick around. Just snarls and hops off. I felt that frustration.
2 notes
·
View notes
Rising Star by Pascal Campion
2K notes
·
View notes
Ben Whishaw as John Keats
BRIGHT STAR (2009) dir. Jane Campion
683 notes
·
View notes
Very excited for the rewrite of @exilethegame! This was based on a random-song prompt where I got Tilt by In Flames, reminded me of the commander and their relationship to.. their mother? Their country? Duty? Is there a difference
165 notes
·
View notes
Summer has arrived, and with it, the single greatest proliferation of life in Central Appalachia. This is the time of great, ostentatious wildflowers, one more showy and resplendent than the next, each competing with the other for the swarms of pollinators that have emerged to drink from the earth's sweet nectar pots, find their mates, and plant their eggs in the all-too-brief span before their whirring energies have faded into oblivion. At no time do I feel more connected to life's urgent, relentless pulse than in the electric heat of summer; the rich meadows, bogs, streambanks, and hedgerows are my temples and the tiny creatures that come to them to feed and renew their kind are the only intermediaries I need to realize true spiritual peace and joy.
The photos above are from a late afternoon bike ride on Deckers Creek Trail.
181 notes
·
View notes