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[howtheyshine]

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[howtheyshine]

It's overwhelming. It makes him feel small and crushed and tired and he doesn't want to keep trying but he can't stop either because what else is he going to do?

Become numb to chaos of Barge and things that people shouldn't be numb to in first place.

Distress good people and push them away.

He wishes he could believe his brother, he wishes he did, but--

He's not John Doe, the only King in Yellow half who's done it. The only King in Yellow half who's become something else.

The name you picked means nothing to me.

It's the voice, that memory, that tells him what to do. He uses Larson's wall. He doesn't know what it's called, doesn't know how he knows it, but knows he can't break it and knows how it feels. He builds that feeling up and around himself and sinks his crown as deep into the blobby as it can get.

[greatoldjohn]

It doesn't need to mean anything to him, Edwin. That's not where it starts. He remembers a discussion they had before this, before Edwin was drawn back to his world. He feels like he's starting to catch on something. In fact, sometimes having people looking at you while you start, with all their preconceived ideas and expectations can be harder. Seeds need the dark. They need time. It needs to be real, yes, but start small. It just needs to mean something to you to get started.

"Edwin", the idea of him, isn't big enough to have leaves or branches yet. He can't hold anyone else's expectations. But he can grow.

[howtheyshine]

There's a long silence, where he thinks about not answering, thinks about just... pretending to be asleep, or something.

Seeds can drown.

[greatoldjohn]

They can also not drown.

Risk is a part of it, Edwin. Growth and change isn't comfortable.

It's worth it but nothing is guaranteed. I didn't start this journey with the knowledge that I would get anywhere.

Some days I don't even know how far I've come. I can't see it.

[howtheyshine]

His internal voice, as muted as the emotions are with his makeshift barrier, breaks and gives him away.

I just want to be tired for a little while. Can I just be tired for a little while?

[greatoldjohn]

A short pause before he nods.

Of course, little brother.

[howtheyshine]

There's a long silence, where Yellow stays quiet inside his little egg. Shores up his Larson-inspired wall until he's fairly sure John won't hear anything in his words except the words themselves.

I'm okay. You can go.

[greatoldjohn]

Edwin will feel the heartbreak; he can't help that.

He doesn't need the emotions. He knows what it feels like when someone can't stand being around you any more.

Can or...

You want me to go.

[howtheyshine]

That was not the reaction he expected.

It confuses him, leaves him looking for where in his emotional calculations he missed a variable or moved a decimal somehow.

I th-- I thought you didn't want to stay.

[greatoldjohn]

More frustration.

I offered to be here.

I walked through the door.

I invited you to sit with me.

You're the one who keeps pulling away, not me.

[howtheyshine]

Guilt that John can't sense squeezes away Yellow's words, crushing a half-dozen impulsive, angry replies. Eventually he gives the only answer he can think of, safely neutral, or at least factual.

You're right.

[greatoldjohn]

So if you want me to go, I'll go.

But I don't want to go. You're hurting and I love you and even if I can't say the right thing, I don't want you to be alone.

[howtheyshine]

This would be so much easier if John didn't love him. If nobody did. It would be so much easier to give up if people didn't care that he wants to.

I don't know how to exist the way I'm supposed to.

I don't know why wardens can be cruel and still be wardens.

I don't know why it matters to keep going when all that happens when you keep going is more people tell you you're made wrong or that you're not being what you're supposed to be.

I should be alone. I'm not good enough. And I know it makes you mad when I say that, but I don't know how to stop it from being true.

[greatoldjohn]

There's frustration, but it's- he's going to bank it to try and be calm.

He's not going anywhere.

Tell me what you think I said.

[howtheyshine]

A long pause, and He Who Shall Never Share Emotions Again cracks open his shield-shell enough to set free a tendril of confusion.

That I have to keep trying. That I just have to try harder.

[greatoldjohn]

...not even a little bit, no.

Oh there's just a weariness that's soaked in those words, fond weariness but weariness all the same. He can't help it after his brief conversation with Astarion.

Who are you?

He holds up a finger very quickly.

And any time you're going to use the word 'should' or 'supposed to' or 'was' or 'the right way' or 'expected' or anything like that, throw that sentence away. ...and don't get cute and figure out ways to say it that don't use those words. You know what I mean.

'Want' or 'Like' or 'Enjoy', all of those are good. Things you've 'decided' are too. But anything that comes from anyone else, including me, if it isn't also something you like... out it goes.

Go.

[howtheyshine]

The crack lets out a little huff of sullenness, then:

I like figuring out ways to say things that don't use words I'm not allowed.

A long pause. He has to sift through a lot to find something that follows John's rules.

I like... being in the middle of growing things. I like animals, seeing them happy, making them happy, because-- because they don't know how to be mean, really, so no one should be to them. Or-- uh. They don't know how to be mean. So I like... making sure they're happy.

[greatoldjohn]

Good!

That is an unadulterated burst of excitement and encouragement. Good! Right! Exactly!

Keep going. Is there more?

[howtheyshine]

That cascade of positive emotions startles him into emerging a little more from behind the barrier. Just as tentative, he unfolds from the egg-shape, back into the form of a fox. Or at least half the form of a fox--his hind end is still formless and snugged against John.

I like-- music. All kinds of music. Even the kinds I don't like, I like imagining the people who do. I... love books. What they are, what they do, but also how they're made. That's-- That's one of the first things I learned I liked. The bindings. How they're put together. All the different ways. Uh.

The fox is back, climbing on top of John to try and lie on his chest.

I love the stars. I love watching them. I missed them so much when-- I missed them so much when I wasn't here.

I... love... my family.

You. Jedao. Hakkai. Arthur.

...What's a name for someone who's like family but isn't family? Friend is just-- friend. Hunter isn't just a friend.

[greatoldjohn]

And John's arm will shift up to support the little not!fox as he settles on his chest. He might feel it, how John's relaxing, how he's settling down, how some of the tension from earlier is easing away: not just the tension from when he got frustrated, but the tension at the door, the way he felt uncomfortable and a little nervous. That's gone now, and the snuggling is less desperate and more delighted.

Companion. Bosom friend. Cohort. There's a few in other languages too.

A gentle nudge.

Any more?

[howtheyshine]

As that tension leaves, the last of the quiet horror at himself that made Edwin shut down ebbs off as well. It's the first time he's felt like himself since he came back, though he does't recognize that fact. Not yet.

Languages. Languages are fascinating. All the ways people find to talk to each other. How much they want to talk to each other, that they'll spend so much time finding ways.

A pause.

That's not-- who I am, though, that's just an interesting thing.

[greatoldjohn]

Why not?

Why is being interested in how beings communicate not who you are?

A pause.

No 'suppose'. No 'should'. No 'wrong'.

[howtheyshine]

A long, baffled pause, because he can't find anything that doesn't include one of those words.

I don't know.

[greatoldjohn]

Is it because of one of those words we're not using?

[howtheyshine]

Yes.

He's starting to feel overwhelmed again, but in an entirely new direction. There's a connection being made that he can't articulate yet, but he's getting there.