[Were it anyone else that Myr cared for but L in this state, he...likely would not be carrying on this conversation quite so casually, but something of his Bonded's own disregard for his needs--and something of the fact so much of their relationship is bracketed in cerebral dissection of the world around them--has crept in to take the urgency off his usual anxieties. He's hardly about to let L walk out of here before he's bathed, eaten, and slept, preferably for more than one day under Myr's care... But they can move through each step of that care without frantic haste.]
He is that, [Myr allows of Niles, with a wince. Cats play with their kills, is such a vivid truism that even Myr, who had not known a cat in person until coming to Aefenglom, had memorized it. Now that he's borne actual witness to the sounds of the household cats after mice or birds or even exceptionally large spiders, L's reference to Niles as a proud feline predator is distressing in its accuracy. Not just the direct target of his ire he's toying with here, either.
(Remember there are reasons for that. But it is so, so hard to be forgiving of anger and hurt transmuted into cruelty. Harder still to forgive the imagined, awful future being held over the both of them.)
L's surface hurts throb through the Bond, so much so that it's nearly instinct for Myr to reach over and press careful fingers to one of those aching spots, to knead it away. The thought that Niles' wrath might be deferred indefinitely if only L can linger, if not on Death's doorstep, then somewhere in Death's front yard--gets a huffing, unhappy laugh out of the faun.]
And brought you right to me, knowing I wouldn't let you stay miserable that way. No, intimus, it isn't a long-term solution; even if you could talk me into letting you suffer, [which is not impossible, but damn near,] I suspect he'd turn to other methods to get satisfaction from you.
[Then, more quietly, without any trace of that black humor,] Is it only a matter of pride that motivates him in his plans for you?
[He'd hear what else L has deduced is behind Niles' intentions.]
no subject
He is that, [Myr allows of Niles, with a wince. Cats play with their kills, is such a vivid truism that even Myr, who had not known a cat in person until coming to Aefenglom, had memorized it. Now that he's borne actual witness to the sounds of the household cats after mice or birds or even exceptionally large spiders, L's reference to Niles as a proud feline predator is distressing in its accuracy. Not just the direct target of his ire he's toying with here, either.
(Remember there are reasons for that. But it is so, so hard to be forgiving of anger and hurt transmuted into cruelty. Harder still to forgive the imagined, awful future being held over the both of them.)
L's surface hurts throb through the Bond, so much so that it's nearly instinct for Myr to reach over and press careful fingers to one of those aching spots, to knead it away. The thought that Niles' wrath might be deferred indefinitely if only L can linger, if not on Death's doorstep, then somewhere in Death's front yard--gets a huffing, unhappy laugh out of the faun.]
And brought you right to me, knowing I wouldn't let you stay miserable that way. No, intimus, it isn't a long-term solution; even if you could talk me into letting you suffer, [which is not impossible, but damn near,] I suspect he'd turn to other methods to get satisfaction from you.
[Then, more quietly, without any trace of that black humor,] Is it only a matter of pride that motivates him in his plans for you?
[He'd hear what else L has deduced is behind Niles' intentions.]