[L nods, humming conflicted approval as he does so Myr can understand. He does want his Bonded to think kindly of each other, though their conflicts are many and even expected given the nature of their circumstances. Though L has insisted many times that it's not the case, he does pity Mello, perhaps as Myr pities them both, and...
Myr isn't alright, is he? L's vigilant, leaning forward, hanging on to the faun's every word as he speaks. As usual, he's adept at reading between the lines and gleaning more meaning than words alone convey at surface value. Myr is speaking of something he considers a tragic loss, what sounds like a lobotomy of the soul. He has to distance himself momentarily from the fact that he can, very easily, take pieces of what Myr is speaking of and apply it to his own life and processes. It's troubling, even crushing, but only if he lets it close enough to think of what he could have had if things had gone differently. He avoids it as Watari had avoided it; there had been no purpose or reason for a diagnosis when he would never really have to live among others, never really have to be a person. Instead, he stayed in his room, completed his brilliant reasoning and remained mostly indifferent to the incidental byproduct of cash that resulted from his hobbies' application. Watari handled all of it, allocated funds, ensured that the absurd excess was always managed as efficiently as L himself.
He could say all of it, admit to the analog being valid, confess that it's instilled new fears in him. Instead, he swallows, resting a cheek against the tub's cool lip.]
no subject
Myr isn't alright, is he? L's vigilant, leaning forward, hanging on to the faun's every word as he speaks. As usual, he's adept at reading between the lines and gleaning more meaning than words alone convey at surface value. Myr is speaking of something he considers a tragic loss, what sounds like a lobotomy of the soul. He has to distance himself momentarily from the fact that he can, very easily, take pieces of what Myr is speaking of and apply it to his own life and processes. It's troubling, even crushing, but only if he lets it close enough to think of what he could have had if things had gone differently. He avoids it as Watari had avoided it; there had been no purpose or reason for a diagnosis when he would never really have to live among others, never really have to be a person. Instead, he stayed in his room, completed his brilliant reasoning and remained mostly indifferent to the incidental byproduct of cash that resulted from his hobbies' application. Watari handled all of it, allocated funds, ensured that the absurd excess was always managed as efficiently as L himself.
He could say all of it, admit to the analog being valid, confess that it's instilled new fears in him. Instead, he swallows, resting a cheek against the tub's cool lip.]
Who was she?