[Myr had known L was dead in his world--or guessed as much--but hearing it stated plain and dispassionate yet puts a frisson of irrational grief through him. He bites his lower lip, against that and against the unspeakable thought--
Few knew, but one of them still burns for you.
They both know it and it would be cruelty on top of the rest of the day's cruelties, necessary and not, to voice it. It was perverse, a horrid inversion of Myr's stated ideal, to be placed in the heavens and worshipped as the unwavering center of a madman's pantheon. He will not dwell on it, letting the physical action of caring for his Bonded drive it from his mind; letting his fierce focus adhere entirely to what L's saying.
Not that it hurts any less to contemplate--rather, more, as it reifies Myr's suppositions and intuitions on his Bonded. Rich--still in many ways a child himself--had not understood why a man grown would engage him with a teenager's tenacious pettiness. Myr had at first thought it an odd but effective strategy, but the truth of the matter--one of the truths--was far more painful; just as L had not grown entirely into his gawkish bones, the rest of him hadn't finished growing either, trapped and stunted.
(Deliberately stunted? Maker forfend against the mirrors ever bringing the man who'd found a use for L to Aefenglom. Yet that chimes off something from Myr's past, a recognizance he'd made within a month of their meeting...)]
We say it shouldn't be hard--but the consistent failure of men to live just lives even when they intend to puts the lie to that. It's a struggle for all of us, intimus, and too many are willing to give up the fight. Even when they've got what you haven't--I've suspected [gently, sadly now,] you're at some of the disadvantage the Tranquil are, in relating to others.
--You can rinse this now, [he adds, tousling L's soapy hair; having him do it would be a recipe for suds in L's eyes.
The mention of the Tranquil will of course want for an explanation, but Myr will leave that a moment, until he's put to direct question. He's more yet to say on the topic of expectations.]
That said, I don't believe it beyond your ability to achieve--at your own pace. There isn't some timeline on this and I'd not ask anything of you I'm unwilling to help you with--as I said when we Bonded.
[They walk this path together--though Myr is, as ever, leaving an expectation of himself that he's brought to the table unspoken: That he shoulder L's fate as his own, too, if it came to it.
no subject
Few knew, but one of them still burns for you.
They both know it and it would be cruelty on top of the rest of the day's cruelties, necessary and not, to voice it. It was perverse, a horrid inversion of Myr's stated ideal, to be placed in the heavens and worshipped as the unwavering center of a madman's pantheon. He will not dwell on it, letting the physical action of caring for his Bonded drive it from his mind; letting his fierce focus adhere entirely to what L's saying.
Not that it hurts any less to contemplate--rather, more, as it reifies Myr's suppositions and intuitions on his Bonded. Rich--still in many ways a child himself--had not understood why a man grown would engage him with a teenager's tenacious pettiness. Myr had at first thought it an odd but effective strategy, but the truth of the matter--one of the truths--was far more painful; just as L had not grown entirely into his gawkish bones, the rest of him hadn't finished growing either, trapped and stunted.
(Deliberately stunted? Maker forfend against the mirrors ever bringing the man who'd found a use for L to Aefenglom. Yet that chimes off something from Myr's past, a recognizance he'd made within a month of their meeting...)]
We say it shouldn't be hard--but the consistent failure of men to live just lives even when they intend to puts the lie to that. It's a struggle for all of us, intimus, and too many are willing to give up the fight. Even when they've got what you haven't--I've suspected [gently, sadly now,] you're at some of the disadvantage the Tranquil are, in relating to others.
--You can rinse this now, [he adds, tousling L's soapy hair; having him do it would be a recipe for suds in L's eyes.
The mention of the Tranquil will of course want for an explanation, but Myr will leave that a moment, until he's put to direct question. He's more yet to say on the topic of expectations.]
That said, I don't believe it beyond your ability to achieve--at your own pace. There isn't some timeline on this and I'd not ask anything of you I'm unwilling to help you with--as I said when we Bonded.
[They walk this path together--though Myr is, as ever, leaving an expectation of himself that he's brought to the table unspoken: That he shoulder L's fate as his own, too, if it came to it.
It wouldn't be right to ask so much otherwise.]