Don't think I won't, [Myr retorts into L's shoulder, a rueful smile curling one half of his mouth.] Now that I've an opportunity to monopolize those teaching skills I've heard so much of?
[He'll take it, and gladly, for more reasons than just the pull of the Bond between their chests and how it beats with the echo of L's need for him. The tether might be an imbalanced one now and Myr might no longer have a Faun's flocking instinct, but old habits are hard to break; a display of his own need is unspoken reassurance he does not intend to go anywhere.
Nothing exaggerated about that need, either. Crookytail's hesitance really is distressing, though not crushing, and L's reassurance that the break in communication is only temporary visibly bolsters Myr's spirits. The elf keeps his hand out toward his wormipede, letting her investigate at her own pace, even as he breathes out his own worries in a sigh.]
"I'll see," [he echoes,] and I suppose I might, at that, if I get good enough at it. Wouldn't that be something?
[It hadn't been so long ago he'd been discussing his own refusal to seek magical help for his blindness with Lahabrea; such a cure had felt sacrilegious for more reasons than Myr could properly articulate in the face of the Ascian's insistent probing. Now, though, in this liminal space and charged with a mission to remain in Aefenglom for who-knew-how-long, with his restored magic to help him... It might be worth re-evaluating those reasons, mightn't it?
Or maybe that was just the borrowed euphoria speaking. Crookytail finally decides that this is, somehow, still her Faun and presses her hand into Myr's outstretched fingers, getting a headscratch in return for her troubles.]
Though that's one to worry about much later, I think--there you are, see? It's still me. You still know me. --Right now, we probably ought to get back to bed.
And you patched up. I do remember smelling blood, back there.
no subject
[He'll take it, and gladly, for more reasons than just the pull of the Bond between their chests and how it beats with the echo of L's need for him. The tether might be an imbalanced one now and Myr might no longer have a Faun's flocking instinct, but old habits are hard to break; a display of his own need is unspoken reassurance he does not intend to go anywhere.
Nothing exaggerated about that need, either. Crookytail's hesitance really is distressing, though not crushing, and L's reassurance that the break in communication is only temporary visibly bolsters Myr's spirits. The elf keeps his hand out toward his wormipede, letting her investigate at her own pace, even as he breathes out his own worries in a sigh.]
"I'll see," [he echoes,] and I suppose I might, at that, if I get good enough at it. Wouldn't that be something?
[It hadn't been so long ago he'd been discussing his own refusal to seek magical help for his blindness with Lahabrea; such a cure had felt sacrilegious for more reasons than Myr could properly articulate in the face of the Ascian's insistent probing. Now, though, in this liminal space and charged with a mission to remain in Aefenglom for who-knew-how-long, with his restored magic to help him... It might be worth re-evaluating those reasons, mightn't it?
Or maybe that was just the borrowed euphoria speaking. Crookytail finally decides that this is, somehow, still her Faun and presses her hand into Myr's outstretched fingers, getting a headscratch in return for her troubles.]
Though that's one to worry about much later, I think--there you are, see? It's still me. You still know me. --Right now, we probably ought to get back to bed.
And you patched up. I do remember smelling blood, back there.
[That had gotten through the dream somehow.]