[One fundamental truth of existence is that no one, ever, can be expected to be enough for one who is not himself complete or capable of standing on his own. It's too much to ask. It's too much to demand, it's certainly too much to expect even if a partner's intuition and dedication are preternaturally good, as L considers Myr's. He rests his hands on the table; heavier than they once were, colder, chafing at times at the knuckles and the wrists where tender skin makes contact with artificial materials. The clockwork fingers suffice for daily tasks and even magic, but regulating their grip remains a frustrating and imprecise challenge. It's not safe to reach for a lover's body, relegating L's to inanimate receptacle or disembodied voyeur.
Not that he's taken on such a role, since Mello. In his view, Niles turned him into a ghost without even the decency to leave a corpse, left him to haunt and burden this cottage Myr works so hard to keep well-lighted, clean and cheery. He took L's delicate, fine-fingered touch, left him with a tongue that can feel the syrupy texture of honey, but not taste its sweetness. Why even bother with honey, anymore, or sweetness in taste or touch?
Stealing eyepatches to add to a growing collection, driving a needle deeper into bundles of nerves through a pieced-together doll, tormenting through permitted nightmarish illusions, all feel like the only ways he's entitled to getting high anymore. It breaks up the hours in this cottage; it is activity and stimulation for an overactive mind that has been otherwise cut off from the world and the humans in it. One more glowing screen (or scrying basin) providing a momentary escape from a well-padded and comfortably-furnished cage.
His breath catches, because what Myr is asking for is a solution to... a solution. A broken and terrible solution, but one that was working in some way for L, for quite a long time. How does one put a cage inside another cage if it's not sufficient to contain a monster?
Maybe the food is poisoned. L takes another bite of bread, considers the gentle mercy of such a quiet, understated fix. He might as well be some dumb and trusting animal, for how willingly he swallows. And perhaps that's all he is, waiting for Myr to do the responsible and kind thing for creature ruled by impulse, victimizing others beyond its own ability to reason or regulate itself.]
There's what I believe, and what you'll consider an acceptable answer. I don't think they're reconcilable, Myr.
[Just as he doesn't really think that his Bonded has poisoned him. It's a comforting thought that gives a struggling mind and body reason to believe it deserves a bite of bread, in the end.]
no subject
Not that he's taken on such a role, since Mello. In his view, Niles turned him into a ghost without even the decency to leave a corpse, left him to haunt and burden this cottage Myr works so hard to keep well-lighted, clean and cheery. He took L's delicate, fine-fingered touch, left him with a tongue that can feel the syrupy texture of honey, but not taste its sweetness. Why even bother with honey, anymore, or sweetness in taste or touch?
Stealing eyepatches to add to a growing collection, driving a needle deeper into bundles of nerves through a pieced-together doll, tormenting through permitted nightmarish illusions, all feel like the only ways he's entitled to getting high anymore. It breaks up the hours in this cottage; it is activity and stimulation for an overactive mind that has been otherwise cut off from the world and the humans in it. One more glowing screen (or scrying basin) providing a momentary escape from a well-padded and comfortably-furnished cage.
His breath catches, because what Myr is asking for is a solution to... a solution. A broken and terrible solution, but one that was working in some way for L, for quite a long time. How does one put a cage inside another cage if it's not sufficient to contain a monster?
Maybe the food is poisoned. L takes another bite of bread, considers the gentle mercy of such a quiet, understated fix. He might as well be some dumb and trusting animal, for how willingly he swallows. And perhaps that's all he is, waiting for Myr to do the responsible and kind thing for creature ruled by impulse, victimizing others beyond its own ability to reason or regulate itself.]
There's what I believe, and what you'll consider an acceptable answer. I don't think they're reconcilable, Myr.
[Just as he doesn't really think that his Bonded has poisoned him. It's a comforting thought that gives a struggling mind and body reason to believe it deserves a bite of bread, in the end.]