[Myr gladly rubs a hand over Cerise's melon as the little whale lets him. Given a Phylax's relationship to its Witch, it is almost, but not quite like bestowing the same sort of attention on L.
Which is still what he'd rather do, even when his Witch is being altogether difficult and frustrating and heartbreaking to talk to.]
Of course. He's your Bonded, [among so, so many other things, which were not Myr's to alter, define, or remove without just cause, much as he struggles with that knowledge and need for justice in his own acts,] and I could not do otherwise.
[He lavishes more attention on Cerise, then, rubbing under her chin and around the corners of her mouth. He opens his mouth immediately to respond to L's explanation (it doesn't feel right, it feels like he's not being given the whole truth), then...shuts it again, and continues petting the orca for a solid minute as he works through that one.
Ordinarily he'd pull back from the Bond when doing that; ordinarily he'd veil what he's feeling, but this time he doesn't. The frustration and confusion leak through, and the quiet pulse of heartache, over the steady background beat of his affection for L.
That...actually hurt to hear, and he is at a loss for words to express that, who is so often quick to speak.
Finally, quietly,]
It isn't my intent to embarrass you, amatus. But I don't remember us vetoing anything, mutually or otherwise.
[They'd agreed it wasn't something for right now. Hadn't they? When he'd lost his own grip and composure in the wake of Everett vanishing, when he'd thought that L's false assertion they could and should be a pair entirely without romance meant he'd been losing his Witch, too, in some unnameable way that left body and Bond behind but the rest absent.
It feels like that all over again, though it is easier to work around, easier to examine when he's not crushed beneath the weight of mourning.
no subject
Which is still what he'd rather do, even when his Witch is being altogether difficult and frustrating and heartbreaking to talk to.]
Of course. He's your Bonded, [among so, so many other things, which were not Myr's to alter, define, or remove without just cause, much as he struggles with that knowledge and need for justice in his own acts,] and I could not do otherwise.
[He lavishes more attention on Cerise, then, rubbing under her chin and around the corners of her mouth. He opens his mouth immediately to respond to L's explanation (it doesn't feel right, it feels like he's not being given the whole truth), then...shuts it again, and continues petting the orca for a solid minute as he works through that one.
Ordinarily he'd pull back from the Bond when doing that; ordinarily he'd veil what he's feeling, but this time he doesn't. The frustration and confusion leak through, and the quiet pulse of heartache, over the steady background beat of his affection for L.
That...actually hurt to hear, and he is at a loss for words to express that, who is so often quick to speak.
Finally, quietly,]
It isn't my intent to embarrass you, amatus. But I don't remember us vetoing anything, mutually or otherwise.
[They'd agreed it wasn't something for right now. Hadn't they? When he'd lost his own grip and composure in the wake of Everett vanishing, when he'd thought that L's false assertion they could and should be a pair entirely without romance meant he'd been losing his Witch, too, in some unnameable way that left body and Bond behind but the rest absent.
It feels like that all over again, though it is easier to work around, easier to examine when he's not crushed beneath the weight of mourning.
Still hurts like a bitch, though.]