Is it? I don't pretend to be an expert on the subject.
[Perhaps he even takes comfort in not being an expert. It means that the ghosts he holds at arm's length, the demons he denies and the spirits he adamantly does not want to believe in might not slip through that veil and drag him towards hungry, devouring mouths. But there is a certain kind of man who doesn't mind the danger, in fact finds himself drawn to it because the alternative is a stagnant and ordinary death-in-life. Are all those other humans in waking comas, too ignorant to realize what they're missing? The question that presses L's sugar-sore teeth together, creaking and gritting, is whether or not they are ignorant enough to believe they're happy.]
In any case, the general idea seems to be similar enough. A place between two worlds, a chance for the monsters and the dead to brush fingertips with the rest of us. Personally... if they're able, I wonder why they would want to.
[The alcohol, at this point, is definitely affecting L. His words are slurred at the edges, less clipped and distinct than usual. He's putting forth an effort, but it certainly shows.]
It was mine. Although.. I've been surrounded by people and actually felt lonelier, you know. It was like that tonight.
[Was. The implication is clear: Myr changed that by showing up, and now he has company with another certain kind of man.
A wealth of information is being offered to him, and he accepts it, cupping his cheek in a long hand that could nearly be called elegant as he listens to what actually turns out to be a familiar story.
The advantage to having a blind conversation partner is that he can wear expressions that others might take advantage of. L's eyes are tense around the edges, teeth worrying at his lower lip before his hand wanders toward his mouth to take the brunt of the abuse.]
When you're gifted in ways that others can't relate to or understand... or separate from your nature... it's dangerous.
[There's an ache in his tone that he forgot didn't follow the visibility rule. He works to rectify that, limping back to blank, safe evenness.]
What happened to your cousin? Did he... come out of the sack?
[Did he stop fighting?]
Was he more of an aspirational or a cautionary tale for you?
no subject
[Perhaps he even takes comfort in not being an expert. It means that the ghosts he holds at arm's length, the demons he denies and the spirits he adamantly does not want to believe in might not slip through that veil and drag him towards hungry, devouring mouths. But there is a certain kind of man who doesn't mind the danger, in fact finds himself drawn to it because the alternative is a stagnant and ordinary death-in-life. Are all those other humans in waking comas, too ignorant to realize what they're missing? The question that presses L's sugar-sore teeth together, creaking and gritting, is whether or not they are ignorant enough to believe they're happy.]
In any case, the general idea seems to be similar enough. A place between two worlds, a chance for the monsters and the dead to brush fingertips with the rest of us. Personally... if they're able, I wonder why they would want to.
[The alcohol, at this point, is definitely affecting L. His words are slurred at the edges, less clipped and distinct than usual. He's putting forth an effort, but it certainly shows.]
It was mine. Although.. I've been surrounded by people and actually felt lonelier, you know. It was like that tonight.
[Was. The implication is clear: Myr changed that by showing up, and now he has company with another certain kind of man.
A wealth of information is being offered to him, and he accepts it, cupping his cheek in a long hand that could nearly be called elegant as he listens to what actually turns out to be a familiar story.
The advantage to having a blind conversation partner is that he can wear expressions that others might take advantage of. L's eyes are tense around the edges, teeth worrying at his lower lip before his hand wanders toward his mouth to take the brunt of the abuse.]
When you're gifted in ways that others can't relate to or understand... or separate from your nature... it's dangerous.
[There's an ache in his tone that he forgot didn't follow the visibility rule. He works to rectify that, limping back to blank, safe evenness.]
What happened to your cousin? Did he... come out of the sack?
[Did he stop fighting?]
Was he more of an aspirational or a cautionary tale for you?
[Do you wish that you had?]