[It was a curious quirk of a Faun's resistance to intoxication--or of one particular Faun's resistance to intoxication--that Myr had been unable to sense L's evenings of cultivated oblivion. What would have, had, floored the detective's other Bonded barely registered to a Monster the world's magic had made nearly proof against drunkeness, and so Myr had missed it among the noise of his other Bond and a life lived in Aefenglom.
No longer: With Connor's warning in mind and a hunch as to which nights L might have penciled in to spend obliterating himself, Myr trained himself to feel for those signs--and had come, now and again, to sit a silent watch outside his Bonded's door.
It felt a shameful thing, in its way, because what Myr ought to have done (he felt) was confront L on the behavior direct. But L had deemed it so necessary he'd bargained with Connor over it--L had deemed it so necessary he'd hidden it from Myr--and the very thought of that cut the Faun so deeply he could not even begin to formulate a rational approach to the topic. Guarding L at least felt a reasonable halfway measure, and with his Bonded's indiscretion happening on so regular a schedule, Myr could plan for it.
Until tonight, when the moons are high and fat, and a Faun's shaggy-coated and at his most virile, and-- L's starting early.
The recognition had sliced through the pleasant haze of Myr's full-moon planning like a blade of glacial ice. He'd dropped--whatever it was he was doing in his garden, it didn't matter in the face of this, and hastened to the motel L favored with no thought of what he'd do when he got there.
Because while the knight-enchanter in him is furious at this deviation, this lapse, the Faun in him wants nothing more than to join his Bonded and make something merry out of L's piteous, ill-kept secret. Within the week Myr would go off to war on Everett's behalf; why not a celebration with his Witch? Why not drag this private drinking out into the open where it belonged and show L a better road to a lighter heart? Wasn't that Myr's job?
--Which is how, in short order, the Faun finds himself knocking insistently on the door of L's rented room.]
no subject
No longer: With Connor's warning in mind and a hunch as to which nights L might have penciled in to spend obliterating himself, Myr trained himself to feel for those signs--and had come, now and again, to sit a silent watch outside his Bonded's door.
It felt a shameful thing, in its way, because what Myr ought to have done (he felt) was confront L on the behavior direct. But L had deemed it so necessary he'd bargained with Connor over it--L had deemed it so necessary he'd hidden it from Myr--and the very thought of that cut the Faun so deeply he could not even begin to formulate a rational approach to the topic. Guarding L at least felt a reasonable halfway measure, and with his Bonded's indiscretion happening on so regular a schedule, Myr could plan for it.
Until tonight, when the moons are high and fat, and a Faun's shaggy-coated and at his most virile, and-- L's starting early.
The recognition had sliced through the pleasant haze of Myr's full-moon planning like a blade of glacial ice. He'd dropped--whatever it was he was doing in his garden, it didn't matter in the face of this, and hastened to the motel L favored with no thought of what he'd do when he got there.
Because while the knight-enchanter in him is furious at this deviation, this lapse, the Faun in him wants nothing more than to join his Bonded and make something merry out of L's piteous, ill-kept secret. Within the week Myr would go off to war on Everett's behalf; why not a celebration with his Witch? Why not drag this private drinking out into the open where it belonged and show L a better road to a lighter heart? Wasn't that Myr's job?
--Which is how, in short order, the Faun finds himself knocking insistently on the door of L's rented room.]