Back home, at least; I've not heard what they think of their dead here--
[Every waking moment on Talam could be a torture, if Myr would let it be. Ripped from the fabric of the Fade, shorn of his Maker-given gift to shape the raw stuff of Creation, no longer contesting with demons every night... He missed it still, awfully, and it's only by relentless and mindful focus on what he has got that he's bricked up even a little of the hole left in him.
...Better to not drink too deeply tonight or he'll find himself caught worrying at it, tongue to missing tooth.]
--but speaking solely for this monster, we get lonely among our own, too. We long like spirits for the worlds we sense out there that we can't wholly understand but find beautiful anyhow. If all we can do is brush fingers...
[Further and further into shifting uncertain territory, his footing unsteady beneath him. He shouldn't presume so far after what he's done, shouldn't presume any of this maudlin rambling will be well-received, but the thought they might not have been having this conversation at all crouches on his back with heavy talons set to flesh. It seems suddenly urgent to put his feelings out where they might be known, judged, even rejected--whatever Linden felt to do with them, even if presented indirectly. Deniably.]
If we can brighten the moment for the ones we're reaching for, so much the better. I'm glad I was here tonight, [thank the Maker,] to be with you.
[He tips his head--solicitous--toward Linden then, that ache in his friend's tone an echo heard sharp as the original.] Magic was made to serve Man, never to rule over him. No one hearing that couldn't imagine the--the case it implied, mages ruling men. Because we could--but you weren't a mage, [so much he'd learned from the odd tight-wound fellow who'd haunted Linden's bedside,] and yet they pushed you away.
Who--who came for you? [And why?
Did that resemblance he'd felt to Van extend to Linden in a bag for his protests, too?]
Oh--yes, but there's plenty as wished to stuff him back in there as he grew. Especially when they brought me along--it's not usual at all, you know, for them to keep blood relations together. Against policy. But I'm fair and he's dark and we didn't share a name between us, so by the time,
[they had the letter addressed to both of us, saying Dad was dead and we had each other and Ben left for family,]
they worked out we were it had been left too long to correct. Good thing, too--he made me who I am.
[And unmade him, too, but the ache of that is swallowed up in the ache of the greater loss.] Even if I c--couldn't follow him out of the Circle, in the end; I couldn't stand to see it pulled apart between us but he went--he left anyway, and I...
[Was asleep, and couldn't stop him, and then there'd been the horror spell--
Abruptly Myr buries his face, his sudden failure of composure, in his hands. Not here, not now, breathe deep and stay centered.]
no subject
[Every waking moment on Talam could be a torture, if Myr would let it be. Ripped from the fabric of the Fade, shorn of his Maker-given gift to shape the raw stuff of Creation, no longer contesting with demons every night... He missed it still, awfully, and it's only by relentless and mindful focus on what he has got that he's bricked up even a little of the hole left in him.
...Better to not drink too deeply tonight or he'll find himself caught worrying at it, tongue to missing tooth.]
--but speaking solely for this monster, we get lonely among our own, too. We long like spirits for the worlds we sense out there that we can't wholly understand but find beautiful anyhow. If all we can do is brush fingers...
[Further and further into shifting uncertain territory, his footing unsteady beneath him. He shouldn't presume so far after what he's done, shouldn't presume any of this maudlin rambling will be well-received, but the thought they might not have been having this conversation at all crouches on his back with heavy talons set to flesh. It seems suddenly urgent to put his feelings out where they might be known, judged, even rejected--whatever Linden felt to do with them, even if presented indirectly. Deniably.]
If we can brighten the moment for the ones we're reaching for, so much the better. I'm glad I was here tonight, [thank the Maker,] to be with you.
[He tips his head--solicitous--toward Linden then, that ache in his friend's tone an echo heard sharp as the original.] Magic was made to serve Man, never to rule over him. No one hearing that couldn't imagine the--the case it implied, mages ruling men. Because we could--but you weren't a mage, [so much he'd learned from the odd tight-wound fellow who'd haunted Linden's bedside,] and yet they pushed you away.
Who--who came for you? [And why?
Did that resemblance he'd felt to Van extend to Linden in a bag for his protests, too?]
Oh--yes, but there's plenty as wished to stuff him back in there as he grew. Especially when they brought me along--it's not usual at all, you know, for them to keep blood relations together. Against policy. But I'm fair and he's dark and we didn't share a name between us, so by the time,
[they had the letter addressed to both of us, saying Dad was dead and we had each other and Ben left for family,]
they worked out we were it had been left too long to correct. Good thing, too--he made me who I am.
[And unmade him, too, but the ache of that is swallowed up in the ache of the greater loss.] Even if I c--couldn't follow him out of the Circle, in the end; I couldn't stand to see it pulled apart between us but he went--he left anyway, and I...
[Was asleep, and couldn't stop him, and then there'd been the horror spell--
Abruptly Myr buries his face, his sudden failure of composure, in his hands. Not here, not now, breathe deep and stay centered.]