Myr lets go finger-by-finger as his Witch pulls away from him, sitting further back in something that's nearly a slump. The flash of fury is gone as quickly as it materialized--it is hard for him to maintain that--and leaves only a hollow shell that disintegrates as L's tone turns sharp.
He recognizes this pattern: They have done this before, when L feels unworthiness and insecurity rising to choke him. The Bond pushes at him to leave with the same inexorable force the moons have over his mood and thoughts, the force that bids him to not resist or suffer worse for it.
But getting up and walking away requires an action and he cannot find it in himself to move.]
And if I leave you, where do I go? [It's Myr's turn to sound lost--to sound abandoned. Yes, he has his other Bonded for comfort, but L is his only Witch. L's the one he entrusted his sanity to, who promised him that he'd fix things, that he is fixable even when Myr believed otherwise.
But L would also have him live party to a lie until that lie destroyed itself.] What do I do?
[The Bond has, indeed, swiftly become something pressing and claustrophobic, stifling and difficult to inhabit. L's hands curl inward, wrists crossing over his ribs when Myr lets him go. There's no spryness or agility after he drank whatever he put together with the arrogance of one who never thought precision in potions was worth as much study as the other arts, the ones that get him in trouble just as well.
A rhythmic chant reverberates in his skull, when Myr asks where he goes after this.
Anywhere, but here. Anywhere, but--
He grips the sleeve of his jacket in his clenched fist, which doesn't actually close all that tightly.]
Go?
[Softer, pleading.]
I'll figure something out.
[I have a plan, I have a design, I have a list of other witches, because who does he think he is? At the present moment, he has no clear ideas, just knows that he will do and say anything to get Myr out that door. And why not today, when everything has gone to hell, anyway? Why not burn it all to the ground, now that fire incarnate himself has returned to Aefenglom.
He glances at the prone, soft, vulnerable wormipede. No; he still can't do it. He still can't quite go that far or that unconscionably ruthless.]
[The question's small and despairing. Myr still hasn't found it in himself to get up, though he has begun to take hold of his presence in the Bond and pull it back in. It seems so clear to him that whatever this is he's become in the wake of Jin Guangyao's meddling, it's too much for L to bear (and who would be surprised at that, if even Myr finds himself unbearable to be around).]
Please say you'll do something for whatever it is you've taken, [he adds, after a moment; he can feel it dragging at L's limbs, even now. It frightens him, as so much of this does, though the fear seems distant and receding as everything now is.]
--Crookytail, come. [She leaves off a study of whether L's lap might be safe to return to and creeps over to her Faun, nudging her head under his hand.]
[L's answer is swift, almost automatic, a multi-tasking response to two requests. He hasn't thought through what he's going to do, of course; Myr's problem is complex, and the potion will wear off eventually, as all of them do. It'll ebb, and retreat, and disappear, as everything does.
Go far away from here.]
Try not to worry, it... solves nothing. It's all taken care of, anyway.
[Might as well go in for the bunch, if he's lying today. He intends to follow through; might, in fact, if there's another person tomorrow who will give him the time of day.]
[Myr shakes his head in mute denial at the idea any of this is taken care of--but cannot find the words, and perhaps should not find the words to voice it.
He gets to his hooves with Crookytail's help.]
Maker walk with you, amatus.
[Over-formal. But someone needs to, and L won't let it be Myr.]
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no subject
Myr lets go finger-by-finger as his Witch pulls away from him, sitting further back in something that's nearly a slump. The flash of fury is gone as quickly as it materialized--it is hard for him to maintain that--and leaves only a hollow shell that disintegrates as L's tone turns sharp.
He recognizes this pattern: They have done this before, when L feels unworthiness and insecurity rising to choke him. The Bond pushes at him to leave with the same inexorable force the moons have over his mood and thoughts, the force that bids him to not resist or suffer worse for it.
But getting up and walking away requires an action and he cannot find it in himself to move.]
And if I leave you, where do I go? [It's Myr's turn to sound lost--to sound abandoned. Yes, he has his other Bonded for comfort, but L is his only Witch. L's the one he entrusted his sanity to, who promised him that he'd fix things, that he is fixable even when Myr believed otherwise.
But L would also have him live party to a lie until that lie destroyed itself.] What do I do?
I trust you. You promised you'd help.
no subject
A rhythmic chant reverberates in his skull, when Myr asks where he goes after this.
Anywhere, but here. Anywhere, but--
He grips the sleeve of his jacket in his clenched fist, which doesn't actually close all that tightly.]
Go?
[Softer, pleading.]
I'll figure something out.
[I have a plan, I have a design, I have a list of other witches, because who does he think he is? At the present moment, he has no clear ideas, just knows that he will do and say anything to get Myr out that door. And why not today, when everything has gone to hell, anyway? Why not burn it all to the ground, now that fire incarnate himself has returned to Aefenglom.
He glances at the prone, soft, vulnerable wormipede. No; he still can't do it. He still can't quite go that far or that unconscionably ruthless.]
no subject
[The question's small and despairing. Myr still hasn't found it in himself to get up, though he has begun to take hold of his presence in the Bond and pull it back in. It seems so clear to him that whatever this is he's become in the wake of Jin Guangyao's meddling, it's too much for L to bear (and who would be surprised at that, if even Myr finds himself unbearable to be around).]
Please say you'll do something for whatever it is you've taken, [he adds, after a moment; he can feel it dragging at L's limbs, even now. It frightens him, as so much of this does, though the fear seems distant and receding as everything now is.]
--Crookytail, come. [She leaves off a study of whether L's lap might be safe to return to and creeps over to her Faun, nudging her head under his hand.]
no subject
[L's answer is swift, almost automatic, a multi-tasking response to two requests. He hasn't thought through what he's going to do, of course; Myr's problem is complex, and the potion will wear off eventually, as all of them do. It'll ebb, and retreat, and disappear, as everything does.
Go far away from here.]
Try not to worry, it... solves nothing. It's all taken care of, anyway.
[Might as well go in for the bunch, if he's lying today. He intends to follow through; might, in fact, if there's another person tomorrow who will give him the time of day.]
Safe travels, on your way back.
no subject
He gets to his hooves with Crookytail's help.]
Maker walk with you, amatus.
[Over-formal. But someone needs to, and L won't let it be Myr.]