[ viren suffers internal conflict at the faun's defense, and he dislikes that conflict. he trusts in myr, but he also doubts; he certainly thinks he can dig into a few more of these comments—particularly, that of he could have killed me in that nightmare, and didn't—but the fresh wave of upset from his bonded grounds him towards something more merciful. and still, myr has done enough to satiate viren for the moment, with something as simple (and likely to others, trivial) as expressing his gratitude, that of even being blessed, for his bonded. if myr is attuned to it, it manages to temper any simmering irritation a good deal. ]
[ viren only pauses due to one more instance — as l's promise is striking enough that it warrants reflection (because the other man's thinking isn't necessarily incorrect: that particular risk tends to be a compelling in enlisting viren's help). ]
[ eventually, there's an audible exhale from the dragon. ]
I'm glad we're of an understanding.
[ he remarks, solely on account of his own perspective. ]
Then, because I don't think I need to repeat myself — [ in vocalizing where his priorities lie, particularly; some people do need to be reminded multiple times, after all ] — I'll leave you two. I have some work that needs attending to.
Continuing to argue here won't win him anything, though he does make a breath of a noise--a start of a word--like he'd carry the fight against both of them. Then the breath sighs from his lungs, unused. (A small, dimly amused part of him notes that L and Viren make a marvelous team, though they've between them got an unfair advantage against him: He can't focus on either of them long enough to speak to each man's particular concerns.
It does not help, either, his Bonds pull him in two very different directions: Viren apparently mollified and tempered by this resolution and L--
L still an unsettled self-regarding bleakness that Myr imagines he will have to untangle bit by bit when he's more equipped to help with it.)]
We--are of an understanding, yes. I hear both of you. I will tell you if I've any further cause for concern about him.
[Because that seems like the most control he can have over the unraveling situation, in the moment. He rubs at his face again, pulling his turbulent emotions inward before they can stain his Bonds any further.] Maker watch over you, Viren.
Linden--do we have more to talk about? [It is not an empty question; he's just been left so unsettled himself he's not sure where to begin on this one.
Maybe by setting it down for a few hours so they can approach it anew, for the way it's gotten tangled up in L's own fears...will require delicacy.]
[L and Viren do make a good team; perhaps surprisingly so, considering how secretly adversarial L has felt toward Myr's other Bonded at various points in the past. It's to the extent that when Viren signs off, with grace, that L feels momentarily adrift, left alone with his ire and his conflict and his deep, troubling concern for Myr that is perhaps a convenient projection of his own deeply concerning situation.
Or his own deeply concerning hypocrisy, but... he'd prefer not to reflect, or dwell, or consider. Not at this time. He murmurs a quick word of parting to Viren, probably too casual for what the situation calls for, but brevity might be better at this time. There are raw things exposed prematurely; shadows he perhaps jumped at too quickly, slights that might be imagined, feelings that might be deeply hurt.
He swallows, looking away, though he knows Myr can't see him.]
[It is times like these Myr is once again reminded he does not, and cannot, live wholly for himself. The risks he runs are shared; the hole he'd leave in the lives of his beloveds not one easily--if ever--filled.]
I will, amatus. I promise you, I will.
[And he is not one to make or break promises lightly.
I will not abandon you.]
You will, as well? [Though that is, perhaps, an unfair question on his part.]
[The reminder seeps over the Bond, if only because L has required it himself, knows it like a reliable half-tame thing that canters by on occasion for an outstretched hand and a sugar cube before retreating again into mist.
It's held, and shaken, and insisted to him that a spiral into oblivion is cruel and selfish and stands to wound someone he'd rather protect from harm. Often, it's sounded like Myr, because it's been Myr, and this is the only way asking so much of him is fair at all. He needs reciprocation and reassurance; he needs to know that after forcing him to care about himself to some anemic but existent degree, Myr isn't going to end up with his ribs as some gluttonous dragon's toothpicks.
Fairness is the core of justice; fairness is a child's first awareness of that lofty notion, usually because it is lacking.
Is this a promise, or a prayer? L swallows, nods out of the ease and habit that comes with being able to emote freely around one who can't see him.]
Of course. Please rely on it.
[Trust it, the way Myr hasn't been able to in the past. Trust also that, as Light studies and dines and lives with him, calling out his uneven buttons and sparring with his hungry wit, his murderer might actually be good for him though no sane argument supports the notion.]
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[ viren only pauses due to one more instance — as l's promise is striking enough that it warrants reflection (because the other man's thinking isn't necessarily incorrect: that particular risk tends to be a compelling in enlisting viren's help). ]
[ eventually, there's an audible exhale from the dragon. ]
I'm glad we're of an understanding.
[ he remarks, solely on account of his own perspective. ]
Then, because I don't think I need to repeat myself — [ in vocalizing where his priorities lie, particularly; some people do need to be reminded multiple times, after all ] — I'll leave you two. I have some work that needs attending to.
no subject
Continuing to argue here won't win him anything, though he does make a breath of a noise--a start of a word--like he'd carry the fight against both of them. Then the breath sighs from his lungs, unused. (A small, dimly amused part of him notes that L and Viren make a marvelous team, though they've between them got an unfair advantage against him: He can't focus on either of them long enough to speak to each man's particular concerns.
It does not help, either, his Bonds pull him in two very different directions: Viren apparently mollified and tempered by this resolution and L--
L still an unsettled self-regarding bleakness that Myr imagines he will have to untangle bit by bit when he's more equipped to help with it.)]
We--are of an understanding, yes. I hear both of you. I will tell you if I've any further cause for concern about him.
[Because that seems like the most control he can have over the unraveling situation, in the moment. He rubs at his face again, pulling his turbulent emotions inward before they can stain his Bonds any further.] Maker watch over you, Viren.
Linden--do we have more to talk about? [It is not an empty question; he's just been left so unsettled himself he's not sure where to begin on this one.
Maybe by setting it down for a few hours so they can approach it anew, for the way it's gotten tangled up in L's own fears...will require delicacy.]
no subject
Or his own deeply concerning hypocrisy, but... he'd prefer not to reflect, or dwell, or consider. Not at this time. He murmurs a quick word of parting to Viren, probably too casual for what the situation calls for, but brevity might be better at this time. There are raw things exposed prematurely; shadows he perhaps jumped at too quickly, slights that might be imagined, feelings that might be deeply hurt.
He swallows, looking away, though he knows Myr can't see him.]
I think... another time, perhaps.
[Sorry.]
You'll be safe?
[I hope. Please.]
no subject
I will, amatus. I promise you, I will.
[And he is not one to make or break promises lightly.
I will not abandon you.]
You will, as well? [Though that is, perhaps, an unfair question on his part.]
no subject
It's held, and shaken, and insisted to him that a spiral into oblivion is cruel and selfish and stands to wound someone he'd rather protect from harm. Often, it's sounded like Myr, because it's been Myr, and this is the only way asking so much of him is fair at all. He needs reciprocation and reassurance; he needs to know that after forcing him to care about himself to some anemic but existent degree, Myr isn't going to end up with his ribs as some gluttonous dragon's toothpicks.
Fairness is the core of justice; fairness is a child's first awareness of that lofty notion, usually because it is lacking.
Is this a promise, or a prayer? L swallows, nods out of the ease and habit that comes with being able to emote freely around one who can't see him.]
Of course. Please rely on it.
[Trust it, the way Myr hasn't been able to in the past. Trust also that, as Light studies and dines and lives with him, calling out his uneven buttons and sparring with his hungry wit, his murderer might actually be good for him though no sane argument supports the notion.]