[It's a struggle not to take the withdrawal as a rebuke, a struggle Myr nearly loses when the Bond's sloshing over with things he can't name that nevertheless fit all too neatly into the space of his own fears. Instinct, his usual guide in these things, does not tell him what to do--whether to let L go or clutch him close, and so Myr is still as a faun can be, and he listens.

We don't have a contract. ] We have a Bond--

[He begins, on an upwelling of all that means to him; all he's implicitly taken on himself on top of what he'd made tacit during their abbreviated ceremony. Except nowhere in there did he say he'd take command of L's life--what a horrid thing that would be--which isn't what he's doing, isn't at all--

He doesn't finish the sentence. (The dizziness, second-hand, must not be so bad as L is feeling it but without vision to fix on some distant point until his disordered sense of the world stabilizes, it's damned hard to right himself.)]

This is-- [Breath in, breath out. Gather your thoughts, mage, because thoughts seed intention and intention bends the Fade for good or ill.

There's something here Myr needs to grasp, but he can't hold on tight as he needs when he's reeling.] --a conversation we need to have, but it will be better done when we can both think straight.

Will you give me till then to answer? [Not pleading, not exactly, but with something like it all the same because he can feel the edge of the abyss as it crumbles the soil from beneath his hooves.

He has not pulled away from L. But nor does he tighten his grip--goes so far as to turn his free hand palm-up in a mute offer.]