[Myr has remained, and so far as he knows--as he's concerned--he will remain, so long as he and L are alive; so long they are not recalled through the mirrors in that capricious way the world has of dispensing of its surprise guests. Stubborn and hard-headed as any faun (and there's a clue, maybe, why he's come out as he has), once he has set his mind to something there's not much that will dissuade him from it.
(And the potential reward, ah--the rescue of a sufferer who's become so quickly, so deeply dear to him in the brief time they've known each other-- That is worth every price that is Myr's to pay, even if he has no guarantee beyond his own indomitable hopes for success. Some things were worth doing, worth trying, even though there was no knowing how they'd end.)
The deepening Bond has made it easier to express a part of that without need for words at all, but the true proof of that conviction to stay lay in his actions. Which is another heartbreaking piece of this: By any lights he'd failed in a part of his charge, and yet L's trust in him remains. What could conspire to leave someone so brilliant, so wary, in such a state?
He does not know how to ask, or if he should ask, and indeed, beginning is the most difficult part. That L's given voice to Myr's own thoughts there prompts a huff of noise, an almost-laugh, as the faun eases past his Witch to open the taps.
(L's frailty, Myr's got some idea of; but it's a very good thing he cannot see those marks. They would break his overlarge heart.)]
It is, isn't it? I can start us off with a question-- [This may hurt.] Why did he bring you to me?
[He's not looking for the obvious answer; why is facile that way, allowing proximate and ultimate causes to nest together in the space of one word, a world of questions packed side-by-side: What do you think his motive was in doing it? How did you come to be where he could find you? Where were you for him to find?
Why, oh dear friend, did you leave yourself in that state to be found?]
excuse me, ma'am, *that last line*
(And the potential reward, ah--the rescue of a sufferer who's become so quickly, so deeply dear to him in the brief time they've known each other-- That is worth every price that is Myr's to pay, even if he has no guarantee beyond his own indomitable hopes for success. Some things were worth doing, worth trying, even though there was no knowing how they'd end.)
The deepening Bond has made it easier to express a part of that without need for words at all, but the true proof of that conviction to stay lay in his actions. Which is another heartbreaking piece of this: By any lights he'd failed in a part of his charge, and yet L's trust in him remains. What could conspire to leave someone so brilliant, so wary, in such a state?
He does not know how to ask, or if he should ask, and indeed, beginning is the most difficult part. That L's given voice to Myr's own thoughts there prompts a huff of noise, an almost-laugh, as the faun eases past his Witch to open the taps.
(L's frailty, Myr's got some idea of; but it's a very good thing he cannot see those marks. They would break his overlarge heart.)]
It is, isn't it? I can start us off with a question-- [This may hurt.] Why did he bring you to me?
[He's not looking for the obvious answer; why is facile that way, allowing proximate and ultimate causes to nest together in the space of one word, a world of questions packed side-by-side: What do you think his motive was in doing it? How did you come to be where he could find you? Where were you for him to find?
Why, oh dear friend, did you leave yourself in that state to be found?]