A man he'd been fond of, but didn't want you to emulate? [Interesting. Very interesting. And--entirely academic, really, to the far more important subject of the weight of dread and guilt Everett's been carrying with him over the subject.
Myr considers approaches, gently pushes aside his own curiosity and the desire to dig deeper yet into the history of the Springtide. Ample time for that later--maybe even tonight, depending how the rest of the conversation goes and where they end up at the close of it.]
Are you afraid you've come to be too much like him anyway?
Afraid... well. [this would completely escape Myr, obviously, obviously it would. He could lie through omission with such ease!
It takes so much of his better judgement to share]
I know I'm much like him. As a matter of fact. [he doesn't like it, but it is. A fact with evidence.]
The Springtide can tell a reincarnation through matching handwriting. We're taught young to read and write so the comparison can be made. When young, it matches closest, since life experience has not had much influenced. [so, it follows, Everett's handwriting should be different now that he's older, if he is so different]
Mine is still the same. [he has the direct comparison to study and. Urg. It's bleak.]
[It is a fact that Myr's immediate impulse is to contest--because he's not Springtide and the matter of someone's handwriting seems petty and inconsequential. Everett is the sort of man who'd weep for a near-stranger's sorrow and keep a grieving mermaid company through the night. What did handwriting signify in the face of that?
And yet--and yet. Everett's also a man with a gift for stepping inside someone else's troubles and taking on the weight of them himself, however bizarre and removed they might seem from his own experiences. How could Myr do any less than follow his Bonded's example in this?
It seems such a small thing as to hardly matter, but it matters so much to Everett, and that's what's truly important.
(The emotions across their Bond roil and simmer as Myr works through this, settling on a quiet sort of worry.)]
Do you think that dooms you to committing all his same sins, dearheart?
I... do not know, my darling. I fear as much. Even if I am no druid, not in the sense Sherwood was... [the faun powers are more what Sherwood claimed of the druids, generating wealth and plenty without the drawing on of necromancy to do so, so that's safely different.
It's more his actions, the way he has always run from caring too deeply for others.]
I know of myself. I know the distance I keep with those I have loved. Others do not deserve to carry the burden of my inherent... selfishness. [he puts his hands to Myr's holding gently, if the bond belies the calmness.
He is lonely and filled with guilt for that, feels his desires too needy, too desperate, too childish. That is a weight not to be shared, like the soul supposedly held beneath his gloves.]
[Myr's tone rises on the word, not to incredulity but near enough. Near enough, as he takes Everett's hands in both his own and holds tight.]
You are anything but a selfish man, Everett Vaughan. Fearing to love too deeply, [he sees you there, in spirit, even if he can't in flesh,] is a world away from being the sort of man who'd take me, or Sokie, or Viren and sacrifice us for magic.
[If he's strident it's because he loves Everett so fiercely, so dearly, that he will fight on his behalf. Even if he's fighting Everett for Everett's own honor.
He lifts one of his Bonded's hands to his lips, pressing them against Everett's knuckles in his own gesture of knightly esteem. Quietly, then, and more gently,]
Instead you've given me back something I thought irreplaceable, believing in me when I couldn't.
[Fearing to love too deeply- the strikes through Everett, an arrow through the center of his chest and out through his back, pinning him to his chair in perfect posture. As a man so wrapped up in words, always having a talent for them and using them as his very livelihood, that simple statement is so true it wounds him.
And in part, it heals him.
Or it will, with some time, some thought, some care, and some consideration. Myr continues to speak and Everett is silent, breath held until tears rolls down his cheeks and pool in his glasses. When words can finally form, he says nothing of himself, because oh....
His darling Myr.]
Of course I believe in you. You are irreplaceable. I could tell... [Everett repeats, quieter and fonder so very, very assured]
[There is a risk, Myr knows, in speaking the truth so boldly about another person. Even when it's a kind truth, kindly meant, it can still hurt...
But it's that, or knowing each day Everett is torturing himself by comparison to a loveless monster. Myr's seldom had a choice in starker relief, and it strips the razor edge of guilt from knowing he's landed a blow. (Has made Everett cry, though he cannot see that, doesn't yet know it.) Oh, there is pain in him for his beloved's pain, and sorrow to have worsened it, but it's a healer's sorrow and not a soldier's, knowing mending could come of the wound.]
Flatterer, [he breathes through a smile that's nigh on tears itself, and:] Thank you, dearheart. For that, and for all you are and all you've shared with me.
[He believes in you, Everett, you see, and he is so very good at fervent, heartfelt belief.]
And, [because he is also very, very good at curiosity,] all you will yet.
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faithlikeaseed) wrote2019-08-01 12:00 am
no subject
Myr considers approaches, gently pushes aside his own curiosity and the desire to dig deeper yet into the history of the Springtide. Ample time for that later--maybe even tonight, depending how the rest of the conversation goes and where they end up at the close of it.]
Are you afraid you've come to be too much like him anyway?
no subject
It takes so much of his better judgement to share]
I know I'm much like him. As a matter of fact. [he doesn't like it, but it is. A fact with evidence.]
The Springtide can tell a reincarnation through matching handwriting. We're taught young to read and write so the comparison can be made. When young, it matches closest, since life experience has not had much influenced. [so, it follows, Everett's handwriting should be different now that he's older, if he is so different]
Mine is still the same. [he has the direct comparison to study and. Urg. It's bleak.]
no subject
And yet--and yet. Everett's also a man with a gift for stepping inside someone else's troubles and taking on the weight of them himself, however bizarre and removed they might seem from his own experiences. How could Myr do any less than follow his Bonded's example in this?
It seems such a small thing as to hardly matter, but it matters so much to Everett, and that's what's truly important.
(The emotions across their Bond roil and simmer as Myr works through this, settling on a quiet sort of worry.)]
Do you think that dooms you to committing all his same sins, dearheart?
no subject
It's more his actions, the way he has always run from caring too deeply for others.]
I know of myself. I know the distance I keep with those I have loved. Others do not deserve to carry the burden of my inherent... selfishness. [he puts his hands to Myr's holding gently, if the bond belies the calmness.
He is lonely and filled with guilt for that, feels his desires too needy, too desperate, too childish. That is a weight not to be shared, like the soul supposedly held beneath his gloves.]
no subject
[Myr's tone rises on the word, not to incredulity but near enough. Near enough, as he takes Everett's hands in both his own and holds tight.]
You are anything but a selfish man, Everett Vaughan. Fearing to love too deeply, [he sees you there, in spirit, even if he can't in flesh,] is a world away from being the sort of man who'd take me, or Sokie, or Viren and sacrifice us for magic.
[If he's strident it's because he loves Everett so fiercely, so dearly, that he will fight on his behalf. Even if he's fighting Everett for Everett's own honor.
He lifts one of his Bonded's hands to his lips, pressing them against Everett's knuckles in his own gesture of knightly esteem. Quietly, then, and more gently,]
Instead you've given me back something I thought irreplaceable, believing in me when I couldn't.
no subject
And in part, it heals him.
Or it will, with some time, some thought, some care, and some consideration. Myr continues to speak and Everett is silent, breath held until tears rolls down his cheeks and pool in his glasses. When words can finally form, he says nothing of himself, because oh....
His darling Myr.]
Of course I believe in you. You are irreplaceable. I could tell... [Everett repeats, quieter and fonder so very, very assured]
I could tell right away.
no subject
But it's that, or knowing each day Everett is torturing himself by comparison to a loveless monster. Myr's seldom had a choice in starker relief, and it strips the razor edge of guilt from knowing he's landed a blow. (Has made Everett cry, though he cannot see that, doesn't yet know it.) Oh, there is pain in him for his beloved's pain, and sorrow to have worsened it, but it's a healer's sorrow and not a soldier's, knowing mending could come of the wound.]
Flatterer, [he breathes through a smile that's nigh on tears itself, and:] Thank you, dearheart. For that, and for all you are and all you've shared with me.
[He believes in you, Everett, you see, and he is so very good at fervent, heartfelt belief.]
And, [because he is also very, very good at curiosity,] all you will yet.