[There's no denying that Myr's been under considerable strain the past few months; the faun can't even deny it to himself, nor its reasons, nor the fact that at the end of everything he too is mortal and prone to becoming frustrated and tense with his loved ones for circumstances beyond their control.
But it is, ultimately, endurable--even his own failings--and in the balance of it, there is no thought in Myr's mind that giving up and abandoning his Witch is an option. They'd come this far together, and even if L does not recognize his own successes (or diminishes them, as life has primed him to), each little sign of improvement is something Myr seizes on and cherishes to feed the fire of his own hope.
And L's willingness at his invitation--oh, that certainly feels like an improvement, a marked one; one that Myr hadn't exactly been expecting even as he tendered the offer with all a faun's cotton-headed ebullient hope. Such is his delight at L's acceptance that Myr's usual instinct to test and offer a graceful way out (are you sure? You don't have to if you're not, amatus,) is entirely swallowed up. (He has learned, over the months, to listen and trust their Bond, and what is it if he occasionally leans into that rather than taking his accustomed pains?)]
An hour after sunset, [he answers decisively, his smile widening.] It'll be cooler then, and maybe too late for some of the crowds.
[Because, in truth, he still gets nerves going out among them sometimes--but it's also something he's willing to ignore or shoulder for the sake of besting his own anxiety.]
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But it is, ultimately, endurable--even his own failings--and in the balance of it, there is no thought in Myr's mind that giving up and abandoning his Witch is an option. They'd come this far together, and even if L does not recognize his own successes (or diminishes them, as life has primed him to), each little sign of improvement is something Myr seizes on and cherishes to feed the fire of his own hope.
And L's willingness at his invitation--oh, that certainly feels like an improvement, a marked one; one that Myr hadn't exactly been expecting even as he tendered the offer with all a faun's cotton-headed ebullient hope. Such is his delight at L's acceptance that Myr's usual instinct to test and offer a graceful way out (are you sure? You don't have to if you're not, amatus,) is entirely swallowed up. (He has learned, over the months, to listen and trust their Bond, and what is it if he occasionally leans into that rather than taking his accustomed pains?)]
An hour after sunset, [he answers decisively, his smile widening.] It'll be cooler then, and maybe too late for some of the crowds.
[Because, in truth, he still gets nerves going out among them sometimes--but it's also something he's willing to ignore or shoulder for the sake of besting his own anxiety.]