[So much of what Myr could say in the way of reassurance is bound to fall on deaf ears. L's heard such encouragement before, only to slip and stumble, or make some inching infant progress that's rapidly undone by some other setback. It would be discouraging even to the most stubborn and determined heart, from both sides; no, what's needed is something concrete and tangible, an actual plan, which Myr serves up alongside a thick slice of bread heaped with enough butter and jam to at least summon a fragrance.
Myr sums up L's own solution, analogous to something terrible in his own world. A relief, still, to those whose circumstances were too crushing or overwhelming, a path that L would at least be tempted to take even with the best of circumstances. If he could silence the parts of his mind that drive him to damage, he could live a long and useful life, perhaps, but... no, Myr rejects the premise, considers it absolutely unacceptable to nullify in any way a mind sharp enough to cut.]
Stand... trial.
[Something he's never been asked to do, before. Myr wouldn't suggest it if he thought a ruling against him would result in too much time locked away, or the loss of something irrecoverable. Certainly it couldn't rival the daily pain and penance he puts himself through as a hobbled victim gouging back in petty ways at the pound of flesh that he believes will make him whole again.
It sounds absurd; maybe it's not even possible, given the Mirrorbound's uncertain status in Aefenglom, but if it is? He's listening, interested, engaged. The way Myr paves and paints the cobbled stones of a foreseeable and attainable future are especially anchoring, because none of it feels insurmountable or unfair. He's worked outside the home before, even when he had no home; it's given him purpose and meaning, with any money he earned an afterthought tossed into a drawer. And though he'd certainly never meant to be, had the very best and most protective of instincts and intentions... Myr had become a wall, of sorts. Meaning well, he'd kept the Sun from his Bonded, and he had wandered and found danger, anyway, because even walls needed room to breathe.]
It's different... not like what we've been doing.
[We, not I. L's accepting the tandem nature of the task, though it's slow to feel natural even after Myr's pointed observation that he's not meant to handle such matters by himself.]
It could work.
[He wants it to work. Not as a fix-all, they both realize the malady facing them has no perfect cure, but it would regain some of the progress they'd made and lost. Maybe they could save themselves from losing more.]
no subject
Myr sums up L's own solution, analogous to something terrible in his own world. A relief, still, to those whose circumstances were too crushing or overwhelming, a path that L would at least be tempted to take even with the best of circumstances. If he could silence the parts of his mind that drive him to damage, he could live a long and useful life, perhaps, but... no, Myr rejects the premise, considers it absolutely unacceptable to nullify in any way a mind sharp enough to cut.]
Stand... trial.
[Something he's never been asked to do, before. Myr wouldn't suggest it if he thought a ruling against him would result in too much time locked away, or the loss of something irrecoverable. Certainly it couldn't rival the daily pain and penance he puts himself through as a hobbled victim gouging back in petty ways at the pound of flesh that he believes will make him whole again.
It sounds absurd; maybe it's not even possible, given the Mirrorbound's uncertain status in Aefenglom, but if it is? He's listening, interested, engaged. The way Myr paves and paints the cobbled stones of a foreseeable and attainable future are especially anchoring, because none of it feels insurmountable or unfair. He's worked outside the home before, even when he had no home; it's given him purpose and meaning, with any money he earned an afterthought tossed into a drawer. And though he'd certainly never meant to be, had the very best and most protective of instincts and intentions... Myr had become a wall, of sorts. Meaning well, he'd kept the Sun from his Bonded, and he had wandered and found danger, anyway, because even walls needed room to breathe.]
It's different... not like what we've been doing.
[We, not I. L's accepting the tandem nature of the task, though it's slow to feel natural even after Myr's pointed observation that he's not meant to handle such matters by himself.]
It could work.
[He wants it to work. Not as a fix-all, they both realize the malady facing them has no perfect cure, but it would regain some of the progress they'd made and lost. Maybe they could save themselves from losing more.]