[As always, Myr listens to the answer he's asked for, and what lies beneath it, with focused attention. But for the tapping of his fingers against one haunch--deliberate, to the rhythm of the Canticle of Transfigurations, as he counts down the time the bath's got to run--he is still; his side of the Bond briefly limpid and quiet as a forest pool.
Beyond listening, he is understanding what he's being told--and that's no passive thing.
There are parts of L that stand out to him with the sparkling clarity of Serault glass, cut and etched and fine as gemstones. Then there is this, at once familiar and deeply alien in the same way spirits were. Myr had never much been one for fraternizing with the Maker's first children--had even, in his heart of hearts, feared them a little--but he knew as much as all mages knew that their lens in the world was much different from mortality's. The Realm of Opposition bewildered and twisted them, contorted solutions appropriate to the Fade into the stereotypy of madness. So it felt here, with L's talk of gambling.
Though maybe--the more Myr listens, the more is revealed--it's only the description he's given that's odd; the reasoning and emotional weight behind L's words have a blackness to them Myr knows far better than he'd like. Maker's breath--he knew his own odds against the threat Niles posed, and could read the helplessness in that knowing; even now he's struggling not to hate the chimera for reaching so effortlessly into his life and ruining any illusion he had of giving L safety.
(Nothing to it but to fight the harder.)]
I-- [A sigh escapes Myr. What will I do when you don't come back? he wants to ask, agonized; but does not.] Wish dearly you'd chosen another avenue for that retreat. We aren't meant to bear such things forever, but we're also not meant to bear them alone.
[He reaches to turn off the tap, judging the tub full enough.] I've believed since I was a boy we're given danger and sadness and all hardship in order to forge something better from them. All of us mortals, together.
[It's the core and heart of his theology laid bare, the faith that made him seek bare-faced those things he knew would hurt and haunt him.
Because they could be redeemed. Because knowing them was the first step on that path.]
Provoking him further--that's part of the gamble?
[He steps back from the side of the tub as he asks, gesturing L toward it. Go on, you don't have fur or even much body fat; he can feel how the chill of the air bites.]
no subject
Beyond listening, he is understanding what he's being told--and that's no passive thing.
There are parts of L that stand out to him with the sparkling clarity of Serault glass, cut and etched and fine as gemstones. Then there is this, at once familiar and deeply alien in the same way spirits were. Myr had never much been one for fraternizing with the Maker's first children--had even, in his heart of hearts, feared them a little--but he knew as much as all mages knew that their lens in the world was much different from mortality's. The Realm of Opposition bewildered and twisted them, contorted solutions appropriate to the Fade into the stereotypy of madness. So it felt here, with L's talk of gambling.
Though maybe--the more Myr listens, the more is revealed--it's only the description he's given that's odd; the reasoning and emotional weight behind L's words have a blackness to them Myr knows far better than he'd like. Maker's breath--he knew his own odds against the threat Niles posed, and could read the helplessness in that knowing; even now he's struggling not to hate the chimera for reaching so effortlessly into his life and ruining any illusion he had of giving L safety.
(Nothing to it but to fight the harder.)]
I-- [A sigh escapes Myr. What will I do when you don't come back? he wants to ask, agonized; but does not.] Wish dearly you'd chosen another avenue for that retreat. We aren't meant to bear such things forever, but we're also not meant to bear them alone.
[He reaches to turn off the tap, judging the tub full enough.] I've believed since I was a boy we're given danger and sadness and all hardship in order to forge something better from them. All of us mortals, together.
[It's the core and heart of his theology laid bare, the faith that made him seek bare-faced those things he knew would hurt and haunt him.
Because they could be redeemed. Because knowing them was the first step on that path.]
Provoking him further--that's part of the gamble?
[He steps back from the side of the tub as he asks, gesturing L toward it. Go on, you don't have fur or even much body fat; he can feel how the chill of the air bites.]