Mm, [Myr breathes, and no more for a moment, instead slipping a hand up to find and cradle the curve of his Witch's jaw.
Strange as a Circle upbringing had been, he had not himself ever been neglected--though the prohibitions on certain kinds of contact between mages had left him with more than enough affection to lavish on those in need of it. (Illicitly or not.) Which is the seductive danger for him in being Bonded to someone so in need--to demonstrate his own unreserved, unguarded love in excessive action, to burn himself through by being whatever and whoever L needed in the moment.
Except he at least knows himself, and the world, well enough to know that would do no good for either of them. If only just, and it is head-knowledge only and not the heart-knowledge that could stand proof against Myr's own abiding sense he is not doing enough for his beloved.
As now. There is not, the faun is sure, a storybook solution to this situation--because there is no tidy storybook solution to any of what they've gotten themselves into. There is only the way the Maker's left available to all mortals: To carry on through this step by plodding, agonizing step with each other to lean on.
He buries his face a moment against L's hair, marshaling his ideas for that next step.]
And if I go out by day instead, while you've ought to occupy you, and bring my stories home tonight? [A quiet, hair-ruffling huff of breath; a not-laugh.] With whatever amount of revelry you'd enjoy.
no subject
Strange as a Circle upbringing had been, he had not himself ever been neglected--though the prohibitions on certain kinds of contact between mages had left him with more than enough affection to lavish on those in need of it. (Illicitly or not.) Which is the seductive danger for him in being Bonded to someone so in need--to demonstrate his own unreserved, unguarded love in excessive action, to burn himself through by being whatever and whoever L needed in the moment.
Except he at least knows himself, and the world, well enough to know that would do no good for either of them. If only just, and it is head-knowledge only and not the heart-knowledge that could stand proof against Myr's own abiding sense he is not doing enough for his beloved.
As now. There is not, the faun is sure, a storybook solution to this situation--because there is no tidy storybook solution to any of what they've gotten themselves into. There is only the way the Maker's left available to all mortals: To carry on through this step by plodding, agonizing step with each other to lean on.
He buries his face a moment against L's hair, marshaling his ideas for that next step.]
And if I go out by day instead, while you've ought to occupy you, and bring my stories home tonight? [A quiet, hair-ruffling huff of breath; a not-laugh.] With whatever amount of revelry you'd enjoy.