[It is emblematic of their relationship that even knowing, even feeling that pain and being nearly overcome with the desire to break through all those barriers to repair it... Myr gives L space to make that rebuttal, to explain through argument why it is he has chosen this particular adaptation to last night's horror. Even if he must bite his own tongue to make himself listen, he listens, but he does not let go of his Bonded, metaphorically or physically.
What kind of demoniac god would sacrifice his own child for human sin? is Myr's instinctive first response--of course, he's dragged off into the theology of it--and before he can pass further judgment it strikes an echo that humbles him. What kind of Bridegroom would suffer to see His Bride betrayed and slain for mankind's jealousy?
This, oh--this is an analogy he understands much better, for all it throws Mello's own particular variation on the Original Sin into even starker relief. Small wonder, within that framework, why L must convince himself he'd stepped willingly onto the pyre for the protege who saw him as god. Small wonder he'd thought it the only way.
His grief and fury draw in on themselves, pushed back in the small space he keeps them when he hasn't the luxury to be so unrestrained.]
I do, [he answers, his own voice scarcely louder than L's.] I do know. But that, amatus, is better left to Those who know Their suffering redeems those who've martyred Them. They've the hearts and fortitude for it.
[For the rest of us, there are other ways.
It is, and is not, a rebuke; and it is very gently delivered. Truly healing what underlay this would require surgery, would require reopening breaks to mend what had set wrong... But now is not the time for that.
Myr dips his head, lifting L's hand to brush the knuckles with a kiss. (Seizes a moment to swallow a sneeze at the tickling bit of fur so close to his nose.) Then he's on his hooves again, the hand held turned to a hand up, if L would lean on him for it.]
no subject
What kind of demoniac god would sacrifice his own child for human sin? is Myr's instinctive first response--of course, he's dragged off into the theology of it--and before he can pass further judgment it strikes an echo that humbles him. What kind of Bridegroom would suffer to see His Bride betrayed and slain for mankind's jealousy?
This, oh--this is an analogy he understands much better, for all it throws Mello's own particular variation on the Original Sin into even starker relief. Small wonder, within that framework, why L must convince himself he'd stepped willingly onto the pyre for the protege who saw him as god. Small wonder he'd thought it the only way.
His grief and fury draw in on themselves, pushed back in the small space he keeps them when he hasn't the luxury to be so unrestrained.]
I do, [he answers, his own voice scarcely louder than L's.] I do know. But that, amatus, is better left to Those who know Their suffering redeems those who've martyred Them. They've the hearts and fortitude for it.
[For the rest of us, there are other ways.
It is, and is not, a rebuke; and it is very gently delivered. Truly healing what underlay this would require surgery, would require reopening breaks to mend what had set wrong... But now is not the time for that.
Myr dips his head, lifting L's hand to brush the knuckles with a kiss. (Seizes a moment to swallow a sneeze at the tickling bit of fur so close to his nose.) Then he's on his hooves again, the hand held turned to a hand up, if L would lean on him for it.]
Let's find you a healer.