It is strange to have his own rhetoric mirrored back at him, to be treated with the solicitous care that he uses for others. Not because he didn't expect L capable of it; L had always had the capacity, as far as Myr was concerned, but simply wanted for practice. Nor was it anything to do with the quality of the man he found himself relying on, since he'd be the first to fight for his Witch's honor.
No, the strangeness is simply because Myr knows those are the words he'd use to someone in his position and yet he cannot use them on himself--nor forgive, nor console, his own wounded heart the same way he would L's were their positions reversed. The thought troubles his expression as he turns his face toward the sound of a chair being pulled up, and reaches a hesitant hand toward L from within his patchwork cocoon.
Doesn't actually lay hold on his Witch with his usual boldness, simply holds a hand out while trying to convince himself it would not go amiss if he did set it on L's leg.
L has not and will not reject him. But that's head-knowledge, not heart-knowledge.]
He hasn't, [he says, with unwonted vehemence,] gotten to me again. He--slithered by a few days ago and I turned him out; I want nothing to do with him. [Ah, fury, the first outward-directed emotion he's felt with any clarity in days. It should shame him, and it will, once the moment's passed.]
I've no idea whether he'll stay warned off, though; I'll take whatever protection you're offering.
[As for the rest of the help on offer... He hasn't words for what's been damaged or what he's come to doubt.
(Too busy pretending it will all heal on his own, that the guilt and the nightmares aren't getting worse rather than better.)]
no subject
It is strange to have his own rhetoric mirrored back at him, to be treated with the solicitous care that he uses for others. Not because he didn't expect L capable of it; L had always had the capacity, as far as Myr was concerned, but simply wanted for practice. Nor was it anything to do with the quality of the man he found himself relying on, since he'd be the first to fight for his Witch's honor.
No, the strangeness is simply because Myr knows those are the words he'd use to someone in his position and yet he cannot use them on himself--nor forgive, nor console, his own wounded heart the same way he would L's were their positions reversed. The thought troubles his expression as he turns his face toward the sound of a chair being pulled up, and reaches a hesitant hand toward L from within his patchwork cocoon.
Doesn't actually lay hold on his Witch with his usual boldness, simply holds a hand out while trying to convince himself it would not go amiss if he did set it on L's leg.
L has not and will not reject him. But that's head-knowledge, not heart-knowledge.]
He hasn't, [he says, with unwonted vehemence,] gotten to me again. He--slithered by a few days ago and I turned him out; I want nothing to do with him. [Ah, fury, the first outward-directed emotion he's felt with any clarity in days. It should shame him, and it will, once the moment's passed.]
I've no idea whether he'll stay warned off, though; I'll take whatever protection you're offering.
[As for the rest of the help on offer... He hasn't words for what's been damaged or what he's come to doubt.
(Too busy pretending it will all heal on his own, that the guilt and the nightmares aren't getting worse rather than better.)]