[Crookytail had fallen quite asleep in her warm, familiar spot beneath the table. She snorts awake at Cerise's keening, sticking first her antennae and then the rest of her out of hiding, before trundling after the distressed Phylax. They are--on so many axes--not the same sort of being at all, but the wormipede's catholic in her choice of Herdmates, and Cerise is Herd, and her Herd is upset and needs company.
There is some kind of metaphor here being acted out by their companions, here, that Myr's head is too heart-bludgeoned to work through.]
You needn't apologize for that. [For the kiss. And L hadn't, not really, at least not tacitly. Implicitly, beneath the explanation... Myr clarifies:] I liked it; and even had I not, [because this isn't a matter merely of what he liked and didn't; if it were, they'd never have made it as a Bond,] I understood, and we're Bonded. I am yours.
[Even if there were still one or two parts of himself he was withholding out of concern for his Bonded's wellbeing. L's fear of manipulating him is quite reciprocal in this way; once Myr had realized how much easier certain things would be if they were lovers in truth--
...Perhaps that bore saying aloud. But first, softly,] Not wanting to be a burden or a cost to others--I do understand that, amatus. [L knew, L had seen, L could put together how much of how Myr pushed himself had roots in the black and fearful soil of his mother's earliest rejection. Love suddenly became a conditional thing, that day, and though Myr had, in Hasmal Circle, set aside for a time his obsession with balancing service rendered against affection received, it hadn't ever left him.] There's something noble in worrying after your friends that way.
But what, [he puts out the hand he'd been petting Cerise with, open-palmed, extended in his Bonded's direction,] if I want to be affected? If I want to know I helped you buy a little piece of happiness for yourself?
[Crookytail's earnest clumsiness cuts a contrast to Cerise's skittish grace. The two otherworldly creatures are at odds for a moment, distanced and out of sync, until Cerise slows her pace, doubles back, swooping alongside the wormipede and extending a fin as if for shelter.
Why does the same tendency seem so hopelessly broken in the witch whose soul is supposedly reflected in the ghostly orca? Can he ever provide more than he needs, or be the shelter more than the storm?
Myr can't see the way his head cants, the doubt and stress on his face, the way his eyes and brows interact more honestly than they ever would around someone sighted. L's a different creature around Myr for many reasons, not the least of which involves the elf's blindness.]
I liked kissing you.
[He says so softly, but it's clear, not mumbled. L's intentional as he speaks, now, nothing half-formed or faltering.
He's thought about this so much, after all.]
It's probably the only time I thought I was dreaming, and it felt like a dream, but turned out to be real after all.
[That spindly bridge between fantasy and reality for one who has admitted to desiring what eternally dreaming can offer.]
I'm not noble, not like you are. That's how I know that any happiness you buy for me comes at an unfair price, you see? If I wanted this from the start then you're playing into my hands, and I hate that you are. I hate that my desire to be with you feels like a trap or an ambush. Everything could be better for you, and it should be... that can happen. If you're surrounded by noble intentions, it will happen.
["It's probably the only time I thought I was dreaming, and it felt like a dream, but turned out to be real after all."
It is, in its own way, a high compliment; Myr doesn't have words for it, but there's an ember in the Bond warm as the flush coloring his ears. Even after years of casual experience with anyone willing, and fewer--but still significant--years of a Faun's shamelessness, hearing something like that from someone he cares so deeply for can move him.]
I--you're-- [Mmm. Get your thoughts in order, Shivana. He breathes in a long slow breath, and out again.]
I'm not noble because I was born that way, amatus. I am what's been made of me, by the best teachers, and what I choose to make of myself--every day.
For a long time, [ah, and here is the opportunity to explain this,] I've chosen not to be your lover. Every reason I've given you for that is true--it's for your sake, not mine. I do not find you odious or unworthy of my attentions; whatever burdens you bring to me are ones I gladly shoulder.
I told you, once, I feared to be your whole world, and that is true, too. But more than that, [oh, guilt and shame, that he has to swallow down,] I'm afraid of what I would be tempted to do if I had that hold on you.
There are so many things I would like you to do, or try, or be, that are--truly--not mine to demand from you, even if I think you'd be happier, or grow from them. You will do them on your own time, or not, and I can but advise. But if we were lovers--I'd know I could ask without it seeming like a demand, and you'd listen.
[It would be so, so much easier to demand. It would be so, so tempting to do it, knowing he had something L hungered so fiercely for, and believing that he knew the best way to order his Witch's life.
It wouldn't be right but he could talk himself into it being necessary.
He reaches up with his free hand--the one not outstretched toward L--and rubs at his face beneath the blindfold.]
I'll give myself enough credit that I wouldn't do it, just as I'm not ever going to tell you I'd love you more if you'd just do one thing, pretty please. [There's an echo of someone else in how Myr says that, someone that isn't Myr, someone who once held that power over him.] --And if I do, you know, you're well within your rights to tell me to fuck off and stop breaking my promises.
[This is not--the polished presentation he'd hoped for; it isn't as stirring and story-perfect as he wants it to be, because--as it turns out--he's still raw in many places, unfinished and mutilated and a work-in-progress. The same as his Witch in kind, though--praise the Maker and His Bride--not degree.
He sits with that realization, and his own wrong-footed sense of awkwardness, for a long, long moment.
Across the room, Crookytail lifts her head to bump companionably at the underside of Cerise's fin. Hello, you.]
[L gives Myr silent space to speak and falter where he does, fingers twisting in the loose trouser material around his knees under the table. He hasn't elected to take Myr's offered hand, which might perhaps add another distraction, another layer of difficulty for Myr to try to express himself through.
Nothing he says rings untrue. Evidence from the past even bolsters it; Myr's witnessed, several times, how easily L loses his sense of self depending on who he associates with the most, typically in damaging or disturbing ways. The moldable nature of that psychological profile was doubtless extremely helpful in seamlessly going from one obsessive case to the next until the puzzle was solved, but not so much when dealing with SQUIPs, possessive successors, murderous rivals.]
You're worried about being like the SQUIP.
[L's first Bonded, first sexual encounter. The fact that the SQUIP had promised to change him and make demands of him had, in fact, been a major draw to the relationship, rather than a deterrent, because...]
I do listen to the people who believe that I can change... whether or not we're lovers. Probably because before I came here, no one saw a point in trying to make me. My world was small and fit around me. I found it cramped; I couldn't blame others for extracting themselves from it, or only interacting in necessary ways.
[Someone had to slip food and clean clothes between the bars, after all. To bother at all with a key would be taking so many complicated risks.]
I know that I'm not entirely...
[Well? Of sound mind? A human being with thoughts and desires, rather than a sentient and highly destructive personality disorder?]
It feels like love when a person thinks I'm capable and asks me to be better. If I trust him... I expect that he understands what that means, and that any resulting fear or pain are just part of being loved.
[He prefers fear and pain, very much, to a cage. He's come to associate them with progress and future success.]
I love you with everything, already. If there was more to give, I would give it, it's just...
[I know that I'm not entirely. Entire? There's a gradient limit that fades before a steep dropoff, isn't there? At that point, the cage is the only refuge. At that point, he prefers and misses it.]
I'm trying to say that I understand. It's OK, truly, and your promises are enough.
[Promises, after all, are seeds. Even if they never bloom or flower, L's already made his stance on beautiful dreams very clear.]
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faithlikeaseed) wrote2019-08-01 12:00 am
no subject
There is some kind of metaphor here being acted out by their companions, here, that Myr's head is too heart-bludgeoned to work through.]
You needn't apologize for that. [For the kiss. And L hadn't, not really, at least not tacitly. Implicitly, beneath the explanation... Myr clarifies:] I liked it; and even had I not, [because this isn't a matter merely of what he liked and didn't; if it were, they'd never have made it as a Bond,] I understood, and we're Bonded. I am yours.
[Even if there were still one or two parts of himself he was withholding out of concern for his Bonded's wellbeing. L's fear of manipulating him is quite reciprocal in this way; once Myr had realized how much easier certain things would be if they were lovers in truth--
...Perhaps that bore saying aloud. But first, softly,] Not wanting to be a burden or a cost to others--I do understand that, amatus. [L knew, L had seen, L could put together how much of how Myr pushed himself had roots in the black and fearful soil of his mother's earliest rejection. Love suddenly became a conditional thing, that day, and though Myr had, in Hasmal Circle, set aside for a time his obsession with balancing service rendered against affection received, it hadn't ever left him.] There's something noble in worrying after your friends that way.
But what, [he puts out the hand he'd been petting Cerise with, open-palmed, extended in his Bonded's direction,] if I want to be affected? If I want to know I helped you buy a little piece of happiness for yourself?
no subject
Why does the same tendency seem so hopelessly broken in the witch whose soul is supposedly reflected in the ghostly orca? Can he ever provide more than he needs, or be the shelter more than the storm?
Myr can't see the way his head cants, the doubt and stress on his face, the way his eyes and brows interact more honestly than they ever would around someone sighted. L's a different creature around Myr for many reasons, not the least of which involves the elf's blindness.]
I liked kissing you.
[He says so softly, but it's clear, not mumbled. L's intentional as he speaks, now, nothing half-formed or faltering.
He's thought about this so much, after all.]
It's probably the only time I thought I was dreaming, and it felt like a dream, but turned out to be real after all.
[That spindly bridge between fantasy and reality for one who has admitted to desiring what eternally dreaming can offer.]
I'm not noble, not like you are. That's how I know that any happiness you buy for me comes at an unfair price, you see? If I wanted this from the start then you're playing into my hands, and I hate that you are. I hate that my desire to be with you feels like a trap or an ambush. Everything could be better for you, and it should be... that can happen. If you're surrounded by noble intentions, it will happen.
no subject
It is, in its own way, a high compliment; Myr doesn't have words for it, but there's an ember in the Bond warm as the flush coloring his ears. Even after years of casual experience with anyone willing, and fewer--but still significant--years of a Faun's shamelessness, hearing something like that from someone he cares so deeply for can move him.]
I--you're-- [Mmm. Get your thoughts in order, Shivana. He breathes in a long slow breath, and out again.]
I'm not noble because I was born that way, amatus. I am what's been made of me, by the best teachers, and what I choose to make of myself--every day.
For a long time, [ah, and here is the opportunity to explain this,] I've chosen not to be your lover. Every reason I've given you for that is true--it's for your sake, not mine. I do not find you odious or unworthy of my attentions; whatever burdens you bring to me are ones I gladly shoulder.
I told you, once, I feared to be your whole world, and that is true, too. But more than that, [oh, guilt and shame, that he has to swallow down,] I'm afraid of what I would be tempted to do if I had that hold on you.
There are so many things I would like you to do, or try, or be, that are--truly--not mine to demand from you, even if I think you'd be happier, or grow from them. You will do them on your own time, or not, and I can but advise. But if we were lovers--I'd know I could ask without it seeming like a demand, and you'd listen.
[It would be so, so much easier to demand. It would be so, so tempting to do it, knowing he had something L hungered so fiercely for, and believing that he knew the best way to order his Witch's life.
It wouldn't be right but he could talk himself into it being necessary.
He reaches up with his free hand--the one not outstretched toward L--and rubs at his face beneath the blindfold.]
I'll give myself enough credit that I wouldn't do it, just as I'm not ever going to tell you I'd love you more if you'd just do one thing, pretty please. [There's an echo of someone else in how Myr says that, someone that isn't Myr, someone who once held that power over him.] --And if I do, you know, you're well within your rights to tell me to fuck off and stop breaking my promises.
[This is not--the polished presentation he'd hoped for; it isn't as stirring and story-perfect as he wants it to be, because--as it turns out--he's still raw in many places, unfinished and mutilated and a work-in-progress. The same as his Witch in kind, though--praise the Maker and His Bride--not degree.
He sits with that realization, and his own wrong-footed sense of awkwardness, for a long, long moment.
Across the room, Crookytail lifts her head to bump companionably at the underside of Cerise's fin. Hello, you.]
no subject
Nothing he says rings untrue. Evidence from the past even bolsters it; Myr's witnessed, several times, how easily L loses his sense of self depending on who he associates with the most, typically in damaging or disturbing ways. The moldable nature of that psychological profile was doubtless extremely helpful in seamlessly going from one obsessive case to the next until the puzzle was solved, but not so much when dealing with SQUIPs, possessive successors, murderous rivals.]
You're worried about being like the SQUIP.
[L's first Bonded, first sexual encounter. The fact that the SQUIP had promised to change him and make demands of him had, in fact, been a major draw to the relationship, rather than a deterrent, because...]
I do listen to the people who believe that I can change... whether or not we're lovers. Probably because before I came here, no one saw a point in trying to make me. My world was small and fit around me. I found it cramped; I couldn't blame others for extracting themselves from it, or only interacting in necessary ways.
[Someone had to slip food and clean clothes between the bars, after all. To bother at all with a key would be taking so many complicated risks.]
I know that I'm not entirely...
[Well? Of sound mind? A human being with thoughts and desires, rather than a sentient and highly destructive personality disorder?]
It feels like love when a person thinks I'm capable and asks me to be better. If I trust him... I expect that he understands what that means, and that any resulting fear or pain are just part of being loved.
[He prefers fear and pain, very much, to a cage. He's come to associate them with progress and future success.]
I love you with everything, already. If there was more to give, I would give it, it's just...
[I know that I'm not entirely. Entire? There's a gradient limit that fades before a steep dropoff, isn't there? At that point, the cage is the only refuge. At that point, he prefers and misses it.]
I'm trying to say that I understand. It's OK, truly, and your promises are enough.
[Promises, after all, are seeds. Even if they never bloom or flower, L's already made his stance on beautiful dreams very clear.]