[open/catch-all] live, i wanna live inspired

[faithlikeaseed]

Who: Myr + you! Yes, you. Over there. Stop hiding behind the furniture. (Starters for L + Connor in the comments.)
When: ~Septeril 2nd to Septeril 18th, author reserves the right to update date range at random to fit around the Dorchacht trip. Myr is in dignitary group number 2, so feel free to catch him any time up until the 14th!
Where: Around the City, mostly the Haven and the Coven.
What: ~*training montage*~
Warnings: None as yet; will update if any arise.

i. coven.
Though the invitation for Monsters to sit in on classes at the Coven was made plain from the start, Myr hadn't availed himself of it his first month in Aefenglom. Call it preoccupation with adapting to his new circumstances, call it having the run of a city for the first time in his entire life, call it having a regular job.

Call it anything but wounded, festering anger that he wasn't invited to those classes as a student, because Geardagas had seen fit to strip him of his magic on passage through the mirror.

He can't sulk forever; even early on, he'd acknowledged he would need to learn how magic works here, if no other reason than his own insatiable curiosity would drive him to it. But that acknowledgement hadn't amounted to action until he'd been given two very good bits of evidence, one (the SQUIP) right after another (Dorchacht), that the Witches here couldn't all be trusted to use their power for the common good any more than Tevinter's magisters could. And what does that fucking say for the Libertarians' arguments about mage rule...

In order to beat a Witch, he'd need to know as well as they did how magic worked. And--he couldn't keep weighing their ethics, their reasoning on Thedas' scale; couldn't keep up his reflexive judgment of everything said or done by a member of the Coven if he didn't know how they thought of themselves.

They're not the happiest reasons to finally come learn magic, but they're good enough to make him an occasional fixture in the back of the Coven's classrooms in early Septeril. Maybe he's reached over politely to attract your attention and ask, sotto voce, what an instructor's drawing on the board. Perhaps his newly grown antlers are in the way of you being able to see the board. Or maybe he recognizes your voice out in the hallway and gravitates over to ask, eagerly, what class you're bound for next--because sitting with someone he knows a little is absolutely better than being among total strangers.

ii. haven. i like sticks
An advantage of profoundly disordered sleep is that there's many quiet hours in the night for Myr to do those things he'd rather not people see him doing.

Like sneaking into a deserted park in the Haven after the bells toll three one morning, staff and dagger in-hand.

There's no one here in Aefenglom who knows who he was back home. There's no one to tell him he can't fight, that he's a liability, that he'll never sit his vigil--but all those things have come with him through the mirror, and they cling close as shame and keep him furtive about his combat drills and forms. Furtive, but not unfaithful, because with the trip to Dorchacht looming on the horizon, he needs to be in his best form.

Stripped to the waist and furred up his back in pale white fuzz, he stands out like a wraith among the darkened trees. Live opponents would be better than the invisible ones he constructs for himself from memory, but his staffwork's sharp enough anyhow to almost infer their presence from how the blade slices air.

iii. wildcard.
(( GO WILD. Myr works at one of the Daisy Chain locations as a gardener and might be found literally anywhere inside the Bright Wall if he's gotten lost exploring. Also prone to napping in some weird places when his awful sleep habits finally catch up with him. Hit me up (Plagueheart#0051 on Discord) if you'd like a starter! ))

Comments

[faithlikeaseed]

[If Myr were in a mood to pick a fight he'd retort: Look at your Bonded.

But he's not--not really, nor does he think (however satisfying it would be) that pressing his particular interpretation of the SQUIP's nature would get him far. He's no doubt in Linden's ability to rationalize or reframe the facts of a situation as needed; one verbal excellence among a quiver of 'em the other man has already displayed.

It's both fascinating and infuriating, the latter largely because all that fearsome intelligence was an obstacle between Myr and any hope of rescuing Linden.

Like watching a champion swimmer insist being able to keep his head above water meant he wasn't being sucked into a whirlpool to drown.]

Thank the Maker and His Lady for that; all we'd need to worry about is the ones that might get pulled in through the mirrors, and they're apt to have stripped of the worst they can do like all the rest of us have been.

[He's close enough now to Linden to notice a...pong...in the air; an unwashed scent that is not at all unfamiliar to someone who's lived in a glorified magical university for most of his life. It feels like the wrong time of year for someone to have been driving himself that hard academically, but then Myr's not the most conversant with the exam schedule here.]

When's the last time you had a meal? Or slept? [Yeah, we're going for the abrupt change in topic; he needs longer to digest his own anger before he's willing to rant on it at length to a relative stranger.]

[hearthebell]

[L would likely not be incapable of seeing the parallels, the reasons that Myr would draw the comparison. He would still absolutely view himself as able to resist the more insidious aspects of the partnership, believing fully that awareness and preparation can guard him against what's brought down others who were not as smart, not as strong. But a gaping void exists in this man where some feel peace and contentment, so is it really so surprising that he clings to what can make him feel good just like a drowning man would?

His brows raise as Myr mentions that he's thankful for the mirrors weakening what could be potentially damaging to others in Aefenglom, wondering if it's a segue into the topic that would be relevant while carrying the distinct possibility of turning heated and hostile. L actually awaits it eagerly, but as he's rising to the anticipated bait... there's a subject change he doesn't anticipate.

He blinks.]

Why... do you ask?

[Suddenly, his demeanor is guarded, and L is running over the possible ways a blind individual might have been able to guess at his general state of languor, the dilapidation of his personal care. His brow furrows, and he grasps a section of his shaggy dark hair, bringing it his nose, inhaling the scent of stale sweat.

That... might be it. Brilliant deduction.]

[faithlikeaseed]

You've gotten to smelling like the apprentices do when they're pulling all-nighters, [or expect to be Harrowed soon, but putting that out there would be an excuse for a further digression, Myr's sure. Not, per se, that he'd ever mind talking about Thedas or (parts of) his time in his Circle--because in a way it helped to have other people know; a little piece of home was a piece of home preserved, however intangibly--but he's also learned that casually introducing it in conversation can quickly lead everyone involved off down a garden path.

And right now he's honestly a little concerned about Linden's immediate health, and would rather not wander off away from that.]

Food's usually last to go, but I'm guessing you're more apt to forget it than most.

[Given he'd gotten a feel of Linden's bony, bony arm last they'd met in person.]

Does the Coven feed their students here or are the lot of you on your own for that?

[hearthebell]

[L bends his neck down to sniff at the sleeve of his clothes, wondering just how noticeable it is to someone without heightened senses. He's used to it, of course, having inhabited his own aura and any malodor it carries with it, but personal grooming has never been a strong point of is. With the SQUIP's presence intentionally dulled and muted, it's predictably lapsed.]

Is that so? I hadn't realized...

[It's depressingly honest. L forgets himself surprisingly often for someone with a memory like his.]

Purchasing food is always an option, but I get involved with my studies. Sometimes hours pass and I'd rather not break my focus.

[Hours haven't passed. Days have passed.]

[faithlikeaseed]

[That's done it: Now Myr's in full-on protective mode.]

Admirable as that is, [his tone's just a little less chiding than what he'd use for one of the older apprentices,] your body's the instrument for your magic. You let it go to pieces under you and all the study in the world won't avail you anything.

[Of course he draws the wrong conclusion from all of this: Linden's Bonded a demon and now, of course, inevitably, it's left him to ruin himself. Or driven him to ruin himself; it hardly mattered which.

That this could be Linden's base state occurs, but only dimly.]

C'mon. I'll buy you something and you can argue with me while you're eating it.

[hearthebell]

[L is surprisingly receptive to the slightly chiding tone. Though he's a grown man, there's something of a wayward child too smart for his own good living behind his dark, overlarge eyes, and he's used to being treated this way, even comfortable with it. He had a handler in his world, and here, when they aren't icing each other out, he has the SQUIP.

Left to his own devices, he can actually be very thoughtless and inept, and it shows.

He shifts where he stands, a hand going to rub at his bony upper arm.]

If you think it would be best... 33.3% of that sounds kind of fun.

[The arguing, of course.]

[faithlikeaseed]

Yeah, I wouldn't pass a chance at free food, either.

[He knows it's the arguing--had thought it might be an effective lure, after all--but like everyone else involved in the fine little clusterfuck that's grown up around the SQUIP, he's got being a shit down pat.

Just not much cause to use it, in the ordinary course of things.]

Know the way? [If so, he'll follow; if not, he's got no qualms whatever about buttonholing the next Witch to walk past them and ask.

Once they're en route to the cafeteria, he'll inquire:] What's been consuming you?

[Other than your Bonded.]

[hearthebell]

[It's a joke; L doesn't seem to process it that way immediately. His mind takes several unnatural routes, past the implication that Myr thinks he doesn't have any money, or that free food is inherently desirable regardless of what the food might be, all the way to the deliberate misdirection from one option out of three to another for humorous effect.]

...ah.

[He might not be physically breathless, but his mind has just run a mile.]

Yes, I know the way.

[Perhaps because they've already established physical contact once, or because L senses in Myr a kindred and similarly intelligent spirit that makes him more comfortable with the faun, he simply reaches out for a shoulder to steer alongside him as he walks, though his steps seem slow, slightly reluctant. He's hungry, but eating is complicated. Self-care, period, is complicated, even when it is the most basic forms of maintenance.

The steps falter, just for a single moment, at that question, the way it's phrased. Myr's choice of words seems significant, perhaps a reference to how hungry he seems? Almost certainly?

He answers carefully.]

My magical studies, of course. I want to be prepared for anything, given the recent negative attention drawn to my Bonded.

[It's phrased that way for a reason. He doesn't want to give too much away, since it's clear that Myr and Rich are friendly... but he also doesn't want either of them to think that he's prepared to take an attack on the SQUIP lying down. It would, after all, be an attack on both of them.]

[faithlikeaseed]

[Hm. Went off worse than Myr expected. Almost like trying that on one of the Tranquil--ah.

He doesn't slot that piece of the puzzle immediately into place, because it isn't quite right. But it's worth holding onto as a framing element--a way of thinking about what made Linden different. And perhaps, perversely, given the comparison, more vulnerable to a demon rather than less. If you'd tried to make a Tranquil of yourself for fear of some part of you...

Well. He doesn't know enough yet (and may never know enough) to draw that conclusion, but if the analogy gives him a better handle on the situation, he'll use it. Truth's important but not always functional.

A twitch of the head toward the touch on his shoulder is all the contact garners; Linden, at least, is one of those where that doesn't feel much like pity. (And whether or not the dragging steps are an unhealthy sign, they at least mean Myr doesn't have to walk as quickly to keep up with Linden's longer stride.)]

Understandably so. I admit I'm a little surprised your Bonded hasn't offered its side of the story as well. [But only a very little; a demon would prefer a mortal catspaw to revealing itself.] Come to think I don't know I've ever heard it speak up on the watches.

D'you have a school you're inclined to? [Surprisingly not a fish for anything other than, well, something to bond on. He'd asked it of transfers back home right off the bat, ferreting out the other Creation mages to get enthusiastic over their shared art with.]

[hearthebell]

[If L knew and had context for Myr's thoughts and comparisons, he might balk at the implications... but only because denying them is difficult up to a certain point. He is not Tranquil, in the way that Myr has experienced mages who have undergone the Rite and amputated themselves from the Fade... but something is cut off, something is distant, dark and hollow where there should be reactivity and life. The most compelling case for L being unlike a Tranquil could actually be that some days, he is aware, uneasy, frustrated that this missing piece is something other humans can comfortably take for granted. His other advantages might be razor-sharp and intimidating; it doesn't help him feel the connection that is inherent to the human condition and necessary to thrive in a societal species.

He keeps his gaze focused forward; an advantage to having a blind conversation partner is that the whole "eye contact" dilemma that can seem artificial, forced or awkward with L particularly is circumvented entirely.]

The SQUIP is a logical being. Rich presented the facts, from his perspective, in a very emotional manner. It's unlikely that any argument would have been compatible from the very beginning, had it chimed in at all...

[L's voice is slightly distorted as he speaks around a knuckle he chews on. Myr's question does sound like fishing to him, but it's in that ambiguous space where not answering as though it wasn't would actually be suspicious, potentially inspire more pointed questions and future digging.

So he answers, still speaking in a very deliberate, very measured and careful way as they turn a corner, toward the dense murmur of a cafeteria area. It's getting close to supper, and while it's still a touch early, a roast is cooking and the aroma is heavy in the air.]

Divination... and illusion.

[Finding what's hidden, and hiding things himself.]

I enjoy Runes, as you know... and using them to work out solutions to unique situations. There isn't always a spell for exactly what you want to do, so... being able to think on the spot is a boon in my line of work.

[And truly, that's only the half of it.]

Monsters attend classes here sometimes. To sate their curiosity, I assume, but you can't actually practice magic, if I understand correctly.

[Perhaps steering things intentionally toward something L believes that Myr might actually speak more emotionally on, find a more preoccupying and labor-intensive topic. He's bred for this, deflecting a topic before it can get too personal and reveal too much about his own life, his own secrets.]

[faithlikeaseed]

[It is not a safe comparison to draw, not with the emotional resonances it evokes. Myr had pitied the Tranquil when he was younger, but it was a pity without real understanding, their choice completely incomprehensible to him even in his own moments of doubt about the Maker's intention for mages. Magic was a gift he'd lived and breathed; giving it up for fear of demons was unthinkable.

That had changed in the space of a single letter.

Iseult hadn't even been one of his friends; she was more a worthy opponent of Linden's ilk, forever fratching at him for his rather liberal interpretation of the Chant. As was her right, he supposed; she'd been in her novitiate as a Chantry Sister when her magic had woken late and derailed the entire course of her life. All she'd wanted was for the Maker to undo the curse laid on her so she could return to that; having some scruffy elven boy try to convince her she'd be happier accepting life as a mage was intolerable.

Something of his argument must've gotten through to her in the end, though; she'd written him before her Harrowing, informing him of her intent to take the Rite instead. If anyone can convince me otherwise, it would be you, Shivana.

She hadn't written back to his fumbling response. A Tranquil wouldn't, though.]

Mm. Didn't seem to me like a logical response was the one required there, if it had wanted to pick Rich apart--it's very charming when it's minded to be, isn't it? [Why hadn't it? True confidence that its Bonded could argue for it, reluctance to show its hand, ... or maybe he's not understanding what's meant by logical here.

Was enough overemotional irrationality sufficient to overwhelm it? That wouldn't be like a demon at all; they fed on that.

More likely it was biding its time.]

Interesting pair, [and innocent as his question had truly been, he'll still take the direct answer to it as a warning. Neither school of magic mapped well to anything they had back home, so he's in the dark (ha) on what Linden's limitations might be, the bounds of what he could discover through magic alone.] I worked with glyphs back home--for much the same reason; they're tractable, if you need a new spell.

[And being able to draw his magic helped him focus around whatever the block was in his head on doing it the ordinary way.

Which--thanks, Linden--is also not a concern any longer. Myr gives a rueful little laugh at the reminder.] We're meant to be the companions of Witches, aren't we? Seems reason enough to sit in, to me.

We haven't the sort of magic Witches do, but we've skills of our own--I'm told. [Mine haven't shown up yet.

Which he resolutely wasn't going to worry about, or whether he'd end up completely without whenever he stopped changing.]

[hearthebell]

[L isn't aware of the details, can't possibly understand why this is close to home and sore for the faun... but he senses that there is something evocative and upsetting lurking behind this interaction. No case file can reveal what it is to him; that level of empathy will likely always be like shreds of a song L can't quite catch, no matter how marvelous he is at detective work and creative problem-solving.

While he can be a sardonic spitfire over the network, L's often comparatively quiet in face-to-face conversations, watching and reacting minimally so as to give less away. Myr's blindness requires more verbal feedback; he's still getting used to it, and he catches himself as he's simply and uselessly nodding, confirming by clearing his throat. An interesting pair, but one that makes sense; it's highly complementary, after all, knowing the ins and outs of each discipline can only help one understand the other one better. It's in L's nature, because while he might not agree with his opponent, understanding them was always the best possible way to defeat them in his extensive experience with absolutely rotten human beings.

With elves, fauns, or good human beings, he has significantly less experience... but reason is reason, across species, across motives, right?]

Meant to be? That sounds so fatalistic.

[A chuff of laughter that sounds strangely humorless, even if L likely intended it to actually lighten the mood. He's poor at this, communicating anything through tone alone that can put others at ease.]

You're "told?" You haven't experienced it for yourself?

[That is useful information, if it's true. It means that the faun is presently at a disadvantage, should he choose to fight a Bonded pair of witches who are on their guard and at least considering the possibility that they might be attacked at some point as a result of Rich's post.]

[faithlikeaseed]

[The trouble with empathy is it could lead one badly wrong as often as it went right.

Or maybe it's often right in general but wrong in the particulars. Having only the sound of Linden's voice to go on, Myr's left inferring the rest of the emotional cues that go with any vocalization...and that laugh's not so far off how he feels about the way Geardagas is organized.]

Is it really fatalism if they're pushing all the wonders of it on us? [Is that sarcasm? It might be sarcasm.

He's enough of a romantic that the idea of Bonds appeals on a deep level; the thought of a society woven together by acknowledgment of mutual need and mutual duty matches an ideal he's held since his youth.

But there's something behind the drumbeat of "find a Bond, any Bond, it's better you not run uncontrolled" that rubs him wrong; a subtle inequity that he can forecast sliding into Dorchacht's hideous philosophy with only the slightest push.] Just acknowledging an apparent natural law.

[What WERE Monsters truly Made for, anyway? Was anyone in this place even the least bit curious about it? And why didn't they bother teaching that in the Coven alongside encouraging Bonds as the best solution for the shortcomings of Monster and Witch alike?

Something to pursue if he makes it out of present straits alive.]

No, [and his tone is mild enough; he may know very well what it is he's giving away.] I've not. At least nothing so obvious as forcing our garden to bloom out of season.

[Even if he'd been in full possession of a Faun's gifts, they're...not exactly suited to combat.

Not the ones he has to will, anyway. Almost as if the world agreed with Enchanter Philomela on his usefulness in a fight--

And that's enough navel-gazing for one evening.]

But you've Bonded another Witch--leaving aside any issue of personality, is that really as magically volatile as they say?

[Linden's not the only one who can skip around topics.]

[hearthebell]

I think that true fatalism is erroneously believing that one has no control over a situation. Accepting that we can't control some things is just being realistic, as well as acknowledging that there's always at least one thing we do have some control over.

[Even if it's only one's own reaction to an element that's otherwise wholly terrible and effectively hogties him into submission... technically it is still control.

The cafeteria is a little louder than the hallway, but the crowds aren't too bad considering they have some time left before dinner is served. There's not even much of a line.]

Yes...

[Answering carefully, but not so much as to sound suspicious. At least, that's L's hope, because any conversation involving the SQUIP is going to be inherently fraught.]

Bonds between Witches can be volatile, but there are precautions that can be taken. So long as the magic is continually cycled through practice... it helps with the buildup.

[And he's been here, long enough to start to smell apparently, doing just that.]

The SQUIP is my only Bond, at present, and so... I do really on it to practice often so it doesn't make our magic too unstable.

[faithlikeaseed]

[Myr gives his own laugh at that, though there's at least a little humor in it; even if he's still not sure the Maker can see him this far from home... There's still ample evidence of Someone'sperversity in how the world works. Was I so far gone I really needed a reminder that blunt?

Probably. He's in the Coven in part to punish himself for sulking, after all.] There's always how we feel about the fix we're in, true enough.

[The line's short and Myr's patient about a queue when he's got someone to talk to; whatever-the-roast is smells decidedly edible (even if he's still too disgusted to eat; the Coven's managed a true feat, there); and conversing about magic, even if it's magic by other rules discussed with someone from another world entirely, is something he's always game for.

He feels more in his element than he's been since arriving, and relaxes a little for it.]

Maker, that's strange--magic welling up in Witches like they're a piece of the Fade themselves. All we'd ever had to worry about if we didn't practice was losing our touch.

What's it feel like, the build-up? Can you tell which of you it's coming from or is it just all in common across the Bond?

[Then, with an actual note of evident worry,] And if one of you stopped practicing, for a time--could the other balance all that alone? Or would you be doomed to burn out together?

[Now that he's actually thinking about it, the magical dynamics of bonds are troubling and fascinating at the same time.

It's not all that long before they're at the head of the line and Myr indicates he's covering whatever Linden's having. His dinner can bide 'til he's home; Archer's likely better than anyone working a cafeteria.]

[hearthebell]

How we feel... no, that's not what I mean. It's how we react, if that makes sense? They don't need to be in agreement.

[Spoken, truly, like someone who often reacts very contrarily to the way he feels. The advice is sound to him, even safe.

L could probably use the iron in a decent slab of red meat. He's nauseated by the smell of the roast for different reasons, though, and his attention is immediately drawn to the sweet things, filled to the brim with jelly and sugar and empty calories.]

You're curious about this. It kind of sounds like you're trying to find something out, you know?

[Intoned dryly. Seemingly, L's pointing it out to make sure that Myr is fully aware that his hunger, his languor, his tactilely apparent skeleton have not made him lower his guard.

Still, he does answer the question after a manner. He doesn't assess it as that risky.]

I think it's supposed to feel unstable. Like there's something too big trying to get out of your body and mind, and you can't fully control it. First, you're in a bad and agitated mood... and then you might lash out, and then you might start to go crazy and see or hear things that aren't there. Think of it like lightning being drawn to a rod, or... fire igniting kindling.

[L struggles to describe it, not because he's never felt buildup, but because given his normal state of mind, that boredom, restlessness and agitation? It can be difficult to tell where it begins and ends.]

I don't know if a Bonded pair would "burn out together." Given my diligence... it won't happen on my account, and I'm not concerned about my partner, but even if it did... death affects the Bond's survivor, but it doesn't kill them. Even if they're both Witches.

[Very negatively, given the sudden icy tinge his voice has taken on. Glancing at Myr's billfold, the implied offer, L glances up and orders an entire cherry pie and coffee.]

[faithlikeaseed]

[Interesting distinction--and one worth making, Myr thinks after a moment, because he's not unused himself to acting contrary to how he feels about a situation.

Yet that emotional response is the first reaction, though perhaps there's wisdom in saying that's something entirely outside someone's control (frustrating as it is to acknowledge that).

Is this the promised argument he wants to pick? Not really; he can accede to the wisdom of Linden's way of stating it, tipping out a hand in a letting-go gesture as he does,] Perfect sense--the better way to put it, I'd say.

[And then he laughs at Linden's rejoinder to his questions.] Isn't that why anyone asks questions at all--trying to find something out?

[Accordingly he pays close attention to Linden's description, comparing it to his own feelings--restlessness, agitation, irritation--of the last full moon. It's something too big trying get out of your body that distinguishes the Witch experience of overload from a Monster's with listing feral--his had felt hollow at its core, the restlessness a seeking after something he couldn't lay hand to, the irritation the prickling of unsatisfied instincts that didn't want the situation he was in.

Interesting, how the symptoms could be so similar when the cause for each lay on the opposite end of the spectrum from the other. Excess and dearth: Unite the two and you had balance. (He could draw ribald comparisons to matrimony, if he'd wanted. Which casts that tension between Monsters and Witches, the uneven acceptance of Bonding between them, in yet another different light. Apparent natural law, he'd said, but it had taken society a long time to settle on its necessity...)

Once the description's given--take note of that ice--he circles 'round to answer Linden's intimation more properly,]

Largely I'm finding out what all of this is like from a Witch's end. [I miss having magic.] If, [a nod to the idea that yes, he can choose,] I'm going to Bond one I'd rather go in knowing as much as I can about what it is I'm preventing just by being there--and what their alternatives are.

I'd rather they came to me freely than out of fear or ignorance or the Coven's insistence, just as I'd like to do the same. [Because while it had been easy to latch on to immediately as being the socially responsible thing to do with himself, the more he thought through the mechanics, implications, and depth of Bonding... The more he'd worried.

It really isn't all or mostly high-flying ethical concern, even if that's a part of it. Simply: What kind of Bond partner would he be? And exactly how long would any "permanent" Bond last if--or once--his Bonded had access to those parts of him only the Maker knew? (They'd be disgusted, shocked; they'd draw away.)

The answer to that sort of fear is to make himself better so it no longer applies. Knowledge enough to guide a Witch as an equal partner was certainly a step on that path, wasn't it?]

Of course I'm also interested in, [extremely concerned by,] the specifics of your particular Bond, [because deception beyond social politeness isn't native to Myr, and besides, Linden's smarter than to try that with,] but I also imagine I'm not going to convince you out of it by pointing out magical drawbacks I know barely anything about.

[Unlike certain other individuals who have (or will) come after Linden to see he's feeding himself, Myr is less concerned at this moment with what's actually eaten so much as Linden does eat. The food-scarcity mindset is a hard one to shake even after years of living outside starvation's long shadow and under the thumb of a mentor who'd had as much of an inkling as anyone on Thedas could about proper nutrition.

So, entire pie and coffee? Sure, whatever. Myr'd eaten worse and kept his girlish figure in fighting trim despite it.]

[hearthebell]

A lot of people underestimate that, you know. Just how difficult it is to condense something complex into something simple enough for words to express.

[The limitations, in other words, aren't with Myr, but with language itself. That is the struggle, and yes, in his roundabout way it is something like a compliment.

He clears his throat, in a very deliberate and aware way, in response to Myr's little jest.]

There are the questions you ask, and then the ones that you don't but still expect an answer to. That's true for everyone who cares about more than what sits on the surface.

[Another compliment buried in what sounds, at first, almost like an admonishment. Myr might find that he's getting used to L's very particular way of communicating such things, perhaps more quickly than most.

He's been listening to Myr, this last little while, and takes the pie as it's passed across the counter to him, using an arm to balance it while he takes his coffee in the other hand. It doesn't appear that Myr will order anything, but in spite of how hungry he seems, people don't get to look like L by actually eating entire pies. There will be a lot leftover.]

I'm surprised that you don't have a Bond with a witch, yet, but... I can understand wanting to make sure it's an arrangement that's more than just an obligation. A Bond is significant and requires you to give a lot of yourself, no matter who it's with or how it's arranged, so... you'd at least want to make sure that you could trust that person to make sure they have your best interests at heart.

[It's a neat and fairly natural segue into talking about his own Bond, which he is tight-lipped about as a rule... but he recognizes that saying nothing at all about it isn't the right way to handle the suspicion and even concern of others. It's a normal Bond, like anyone else's, forged for good and healthy reasons, at least... that has to be the story. It helps that L genuinely believes as much, and can given the limited and stifling scope of his experience with relationships in general.]

I appreciate your honesty and your directness. I'd encourage more; it's my opinion that getting offended is a colossal waste of time.

[He nudges at Myr with his elbow; his hands are full, but he sees a quieter table in the corner. He wants to head that way, and make sure that Myr's able to follow with relative ease.]

[faithlikeaseed]

[Talking to Linden's like piecing together a puzzle, and though Myr had never had the patience for many a real physical puzzle, he's very keen on the less tangible sorts. Working out each assumption the other man's coming from, setting them each into place and gradually, so gradually building a picture from what he's handed has an undeniable intellectual thrill to it.

And it's undeniably part of the reason he's so intent on rescuing the younger man from what's, from his view, mortal danger--not merely to Linden's life, for the worse risk is really that that bright light of an intellect will be snuffed out or perverted by whatever the demon plans for it.

He catches the intimation of a compliment in the words; one corner of his mouth curls up in a lopsided smile.] Hard to keep all of the second sort subtle when I've got a dozen of them for every one I do ask,

[Not all because he'd grown up knowing there were questions one couldn't ask directly without drawing untoward attention; the world just rarely held still for the kind of direct and prolonged questioning he'd like to indulge in. People especially rarely held still, afraid to be pinned down on one answer or look deeply at the kind of things he'd pry for--and he entirely understood those reasons, even if he'd like to be, to believe, he could be exactly what he appears to anyone who looked.

He never had been and never could be but damned if he didn't hold it up as an ideal to constantly fall short of.

Another reason hanging around Linden's both refreshing and frustrating; as anyone did, Myr wants to be known but not all the consequences of it.]

Surprised? I strike you as the Bonding sort, then? [The admission of an incorrect assumption is fascinating in that very light.] --But you've put your finger exactly on it; while I'm no stranger to obligations, that's not a commitment I'd ever been at liberty to make. Now that I am, I'd like to do it right--even if I've got to arrange it with someone I've only known for a month.

[Whatever the pressure on them to Bond and have done with, it seems insane, even if it didn't have to be permanent.]

If you see something open, lead on; I'll follow your voice, [he says, to the silent one of Linden's invitations, before tackling the other:] Is trust in the person the same as trusting you've worked out the levers of its heart, and won't make the mistakes others have before you?

That seems a risky gamble, if you were limited only to what you could observe--and what it would tell you--before you Bonded it.

[hearthebell]

[L enjoys this, too; he feels that it's not entirely harmless, because Myr is in cahoots with Rich, who certainly wants to destroy the SQUIP, and those sentiments are likely shared... but isn't this like old times, in a way? Perhaps with an added and much needed respite in the form of a deflection, because really... Myr doesn't hate the man at his side. He is not pretending to be friendly, he is not secretly plotting the death of the frail and lonely (yet lethally sharp) Linden Tailor. In so many ways that have nothing to do with the elf's blindness, it does actually feel safe to be present this way when L would be 100% guarded with others, considering potential motives and plots against his Bonded.

The suggestion for L to speak so that Myr can follow the sound of his voice is a bold and well-played move. It's very practical and makes a great deal of sense; it also makes it more difficult for L to clam up, given that one typically needs something to talk about in these cases. And, given the topic...]

You do strike me as the Bonding sort... if that's something that existed. We're all advised to find and forge Bonds, aren't we?

[Innocent enough. He moves toward his chosen table as he speaks, careful to pick a clear path where Myr isn't likely to bump or trip against anything. When he speaks again to answer Myr's question, his tone his coy, almost playful.]

If you take the potential consequences of any action far enough, it could be considered a gamble. Just a little further, and it becomes "risky." But there are some risks that some are better suited to taking than others... to frame it in a different way...

[He taps Myr's shoulder to indicate they've arrived, setting his food down on the chosen table. It's good that they're here, because he sounds breathless, feels a little unsteady on his feet. It's amazing how even walking a short distance has utterly drained him once more, and how his stamina seems to fade faster every time he stands and moves, even after a rest.

He pops open the cherry pie, digging into the center until he finds a cherry, pushing it into Myr's hand with no warning. Just the expectation that Myr will accept a sugary, syrupy cherry as an illustrative device.]

Say that you were eating this cherry, and you happened to inhale suddenly at the wrong time and begin choking. Someone could assume the risk of helping you with use of the Heimlich maneuver, which can be life-saving when performed correctly. However, when performed incorrectly, it can actually cause tremendous damage. Would you assume the risk knowing that an experienced doctor was performing the maneuver, or a frightened and panicking child with neither the required height or strength to perform the maneuver effectively?

[He takes his perching seat, serving himself a slice of pie, before adding]

I'm the doctor, in this metaphor. You can keep the cherry.

[faithlikeaseed]

[There might be one other parallel in Myr to Linden's erstwhile adversary and killer: Once committed to killing someone (or something), Myr's damn near impossible to sway from it. His is less a conviction forged of hubristic pride in his own abilities and more like a fanatic's zeal; not the drive to be God of the new world but a better servant of the One who'd formed the old one.

It didn't render him ignorant of the harm he'd cause, the premeditated rupture in the lives of those close to the SQUIP. If he could imagine another outcome that somehow neutralized the demon and left its nearest and "dearest" (whatever value that held for the Maker's first children) intact, he'd take it without hesitation. But since such a thing's as vain as wishing for his magic back--

The damage control starts well before the act. While Myr was never talented as a healer, Creation's the magic of bolstering as much as mending, and he can still do that.]

Truly we are, [he replies with a smile, reaching out to feel for the seat across from Linden. Finding it, he slings his staff over the back by its carry-strap and seats himself.] Though there's Mirrorbound enough trying to avail themselves of alternatives; at least I'm not liable to explode if I don't take a Bond.

[Just lose himself entirely, and there's a hideous thought.

He cocks his head--curious, listening--as Linden launches into his explanation, arms crossed before him on the table-- Until suddenly he's presented with a cherry. The expression of brief bewilderment as it's thrust into his hand (where did that come from?) is a sight to behold until he catches on to the object lesson.

Sticky as that object is, once Myr's been given something to fidget with he can't keep himself from it and so rolls the cherry down between thumb and forefinger as Linden talks. The usual smile's crept back on to his face; sure, the lead-in was weird but it got and held his attention. To say nothing of how even the smallest offer of food tugs on his deepest instincts of herd community.]

And Rich is the child, huh? When you put it that way it does seem entirely unconcerning, but I'd posit you a different scenario. Say it's not choking and your maneuver but a disease with a long and ugly course with two ways to treat it: Months of patient nursing and care, building the patient back up from what she's lost, never knowing for a surety whether the next fever's her last--or a spectacular dose of patent medicine, meant to purge the sickness out of her all at once.

That second one invariably kills the patient, but a desperate kid might be forgiven for panicking and thinking the risk reasonable in the face of a lingering death. He doesn't know any better.

The doctor, on the other hand, [he gestures airily with the piece of fruit,] believes he's the one who'll finally make it work. He knows the plague backward and forward; of course he can pull this off where the untrained have failed.

Except the problem's not the disease, it's he's treating her with arsenic. [Linden's cherry is just undercooked enough to give a satisfying pop when Myr bites it in half for emphasis. Chew, swallow. Manners are important!] In that case is the kid really more condemnable here?

[hearthebell]

[Perhaps Myr won't explode, and it's clear why that might bring the faun comfort... but L has given the two bondless plights some thought, and ultimately, the idea of going feral seems worse to him. Dying is one thing, going out in a blaze of glory even expected in a career as high-profile and dangerous as his own had been; it's a mindset he's comfortable with after so many years living a particular reality, to the point where his likely eventual death was planned for carefully, "backups" created in the form of other brilliant but fragile children. But there was another possible outcome, some non-death circumstance that could nevertheless prevent L from doing the one thing on earth that gave his life value and purpose. Death doesn't scare him; insanity does. Though he's called himself a monster many times in his life, citing it as one more thing that makes him uniquely qualified to apprehend other monsters, he'd rather think that the whispering and clamoring shadows pressing outside the tower of his unique but volatile intelligence can't reach him. He's actually counting on death to win that race.

All of it flashes, quickly, behind his eyes, and he regards Myr with something like mystified sympathy, at just the thought of actually considering insanity the preferable option. Perhaps it's not the case? Perhaps it's a veil, drawn over that fear with a deflecting, confident smile?

He leans in a little closer. As with all things, the more complicated it gets, the more it holds L's attention.

He digs into the pie again with his fingertips, pulling out a cherry of his own; as always, eating, for him, is a drawn-out and somewhat maddening process that's almost more playing with his food than actually consuming it.]

In the scenario you posit... it's true that the child is more forgivable for his ignorance, and the doctor is more condemnable for his arrogance. But those are the variables in the equation; the disease is a constant, and so is the method, although... there's some room for speculation on what doses the arsenic is administered in. I'd expect the child to administer a lethal dose all at once, and the supposedly innovative doctor to administer smaller doses that cause different types of damage over longer periods of time. The doctor might believe that it's working for awhile and muddle the side-effects of the treatment and the disease, or go by the adage that it gets "worse before it gets better", and so staying the course is imperative for success even in the face of apparent setbacks.

[He speaks around the cherry he's chewing on, turning to mush against his lips. Manners are important, just... not to him, really.]

I don't think either of them are wrong in this scenario. They've both presumably weighed the risks and benefits in the way that they can understand, given their experiences. Both of them have pure motives, presumably... you didn't mention if the child was dealing with the illness of a family member with judgment clouded by emotion, or if the doctor was using his involvement with the patient as an experiment for his own accolades with his judgment clouded by greed. I'd take those into consideration, if so... but in truth, with the information provided, there's only one way I could condemn the actions of either of them in good conscience.

[Myr can't see that after mushing his cherry up that way and finally eating it, L looks like he's wearing dark red lip stain. He goes for another cherry, eating it in much the same manner.]

If arsenic was known to kill more patients than it saved, and this knowledge was widespread and accessible to both of them and they proceeded in spite of the fact... that would, in fact, go beyond ignorance or arrogance and actually become evil.

[faithlikeaseed]

[It is, and isn't, bravado: Of the two dooms facing the unBonded, Myr has gone mad before; he has not had his own magic eat him away from the inside out. Dying because he'd overdrawn on his reserves and spent life in the place of mana was a remote possibility, a suicide (he'd always assumed) he'd only commit through stupidity; but never was there a risk that one day his magic would become so unruly it would betray him, and anyone in the blast radius, to his death. The only parallel he could even draw was possession and a quick end as an abomination, demon-ridden into destroying everything around him.

Clawing out his own eyes was preferable to knowing he'd killed someone else like that; it's the known horror.

Though were he forced on the instant to pick between them, knowing his own propensity for irreversible decisions while mad-- He'd certainly not act so sanguine that Monsters had the better lot, for all they could be caught and calmed. (He'd probably not act much at all, overwhelmed by the original trauma in ways he doesn't even know are waiting for him with those encysted memories.)

He finishes his cherry decorously and licks his fingers clean as Linden extends his original analogy. There are any number of good points made there; the methodical examination of case and exception appeals deeply to both Myr's appreciation of a good argument and his need to extend understanding and compassion wherever he could for the choices others made.

So what if it's an analysis delivered by someone who sounds like he's taking that pie apart with his hands? It's a fine piece of work regardless--

And also a little bit of a diversion, as analogies are wont to be when chased to their extremes.

Myr shifts to rest his chin on his interlaced fingers; it eases the pull of the antlers on his head and neck.]

Say, to bring it back round to the case at hand, we're speaking of a people who've got no knowledge of what arsenic is. Some merchant came through selling patent cures and your panicked kid shows up on his heels to tell everyone about the deaths the medicine's caused. The death he brought about, all-unwitting.

I s'pose, following our analogy, the well-learned doctor might suspect this is like other poisons in his kit--it's just a matter of finding the right dose that's the line between a cure and death. He would know there even is such a thing, contrary to the kid's experience that poison only kills.

How long's he allowed to go on with his experiment? Until the patient dies? After? You've laid out how he might forever justify it to himself, if he chooses. [He tips his head a little to one side, considering a moment.]

It's that way with our demons back home, you know--every mage who's got a teacher learns early that there's no dealing with them that doesn't end in possession and death. Yet there's always some who'll try, out of desperation or fear or simple arrogance that they can keep a leash on one rather than ending up worn by it.

[hearthebell]

The case at hand...

[The phrasing seems to amuse L; not that he isn't taking this seriously. He is, almost absurdly so, in spite of the odd way he's choosing to enjoy his pie while he and Myr discuss it.]

You make it sound like this increasingly specific example is based on actual occurrences. And in truth, it could be, as arsenic has historically been used as both a medicine and a poison. We're privileged to know what's actually effective, at this point in my world's history; acute doses can kill in hours or days, and exposure to small amounts over time can increase the risk of developing illnesses far later. If we accept the premise that every known substance is fatal in high enough dosages, even things that are medicinal or beneficial in the correct ones... then the doctor's reasoning for believing that a beneficial dose of arsenic could exist is sound, logical, and sane.

[L specifically is pretty knowledgable when it comes to poisons in general, considering his profession. But while a part of him does want to show off to Myr, this is not about chemistry or interactions with human cells; arsenic, in this case, could be essentially any mystery substance peddled as a medicine to a public that doesn't understand it.]

It's an uncomfortable truth for many, but knowledge and progress always comes at a cost. For every known cure, there are hundreds if not thousands of failed ones, and for every failure, there's someone who suffered and sacrificed. He's a construct of conjecture, but truly, I do feel that I know this doctor. He has more than a duty to his patient and his reputation; he has a burden and a responsibility to leave the practice of medicine a more complete study so that others can build on his work and save more lives. If this is the man who discovers that no dose of arsenic is safe and beneficial, and he has to kill his patient to prove it definitively... so long as he documents it for posterity, confesses transparently rather than obscuring his data to all including his patient, and sacrifices one life to save many from the same fate... I would consider classifying it as an ethical murder, if such a thing can exist. A noble demon, if you like.

[He's ceased eating for a moment, deep in thought. He nudges it toward Myr, bumping the tin against his elbows, wordlessly but clearly offering more.]

There are those who are willing to sacrifice, or reap known benefits assuming a risk. While the consequences of an acute dose of arsenic and your world's demons are indisputably disastrous at face value, it's only the case if the goal of the doctor begins and ends with saving the life of the patient, or the goal of the mage is to live a long and uncorrupted life. However, if the goal of the doctor is to advance medical understanding and learn the truth about a mystery cure before it's administered to plague sufferers in the next village over... or the goal of the mage is to fill some dire need that would be impossible for them without the help of a demon... the sacrifices make sense, under those circumstances. These thought exercises often assume a baseline of static contentment, when motives are required to make choices. The extremity of the choice relies wholly on the extremity of the motive.

[faithlikeaseed]

["You make it sound like this increasingly specific example is based on actual occurrences."

Myr's got to laugh softly at that, even though he could scarcely articulate why it's struck him as humorous. Something to do with how far they've chased this one off into the woods to edge around what it had originally been an analogy for; but so it often went with the best arguments. It's a good feeling; it feels like home.

Say rather I've got a very vivid imagination, he's intending to say once L's finished speaking, keeping a light and teasing tone about it; a wink toward the idea he's drawing any parallels between this and anything real. Of course he wouldn't be doing such a thing, how absurd.

But any desire he's got to joke that way ebbs little by little as L continues.

This, too--this standing with his toes on the edge of the abyss and contemplating its depths--this also feels like home, though not a part he's proud of. They'd had a game like this in Hasmal, Myr and Van and half-dozen other apprentices who'd been taking rhetoric together one year-- Drawing inspiration from A City Blackened (that weird little hagiographic piece on the Second Sin the Chantry had nearly banned for making the Seven Magisters too sympathetic), they'd take turns arguing for the monstrous and inexcusable, seeing how far logic could stretch beyond the bounds of ethics. Exactly how reasonable could one sound in calling for murder, for sacrilege, for genocide?

Too reasonable, it turned out. Somehow, he suspects this isn't a game to Linden; it's not a mere airy showing of rhetorical proficiency using a gruesome topic as a kind of boast. (Look how hard I worked to overcome your innate disgust!) This is something deeper-seated, and the horror of it invites him in even as his empathy recoils from it.]

An ethical murder, [he echoes, testing the phrase out.] I'd think the instant you began to suspect it was murder rather than a potential cure, justice would demand you stop. Surely there's other ways to assess a poison's efficacy than deliberately killing a patient--using it on animals, say, or looking for court records of where murderers had used it, and how much. Even administering it for executions would be better than violating the relation between a healer and his charges. He may have a certain duty to expand the store of knowledge with what he gains in the course of practice, but claiming that extends to causing harm to his patients without any chance of benefit for them gives him a license for horrors. They're at his mercy merely by the fact of seeking him out for an illness or injury they can't treat themselves--and now you'd grant him leave to use that power to kill them, with their consent?

[This conversation is not doing anything for his appetite, but an offer of food is an offer of food (even if he paid for it). He reaches down to feel out a bit of the pie's crust, breaking it off to nibble on.] Speaking of consent--I'll allow that if the doctor has it and if his patient gave it freely after knowing the treatment might kill her, and he had truthfully exhausted all other options for treatment that might save her life, his research might be ethical--though I mislike what accepting that premise might mean for how doctors think of their patients, if they let the pursuit of knowledge get the better of them.

[Pick, pick, pick. He eats another flake of pie crust.]

But there's no such situation with a demon because once it's taken a mage over, it will do whatever it damn well pleases. And the people hurt by that abomination later can in no way agree to what's going to happen to them. So a mage who chooses that for any reason has chosen to kill everyone the demon murders if it's not stopped; there's no virtue in that choice, even if it seems her desperation and possible gain justify it.

In the end, there are some extremities where we would do better to choose not to act, rather than make the situation irrevocably worse.

["People really do this," someone (not Myr) had said one day. "They really argue themselves into believing evil is the only thing they can do. That's what happened to the Dales. That's why the Black City is closed. The magisters pretended they couldn't choose not to."

The arguments had lost their appeal entirely after that.

Which is a pity to Myr now; if they'd gone on longer, he'd have better support in his quiver for the countervailing position: Evil wasn't the only or necessary choice.

Maker grant I can guide him from this somehow.]