He's going to run his hand along the little fox back, up and down, soothing.
It's a good name.
Very very fond.
Did I tell you that my name was John Hart in one breach? I've considered using that one day, since John Doe has certain connotations in the mortal world. Maybe when I feel like I'm ready for it. Names can be... powerful that way.
I like that, John Hart. JD Hart. The D can stand for something. Don't people have 'middle' names, too?
A pause.
I didn't really... think about it, when I picked Edwin. It didn't mean much to me at the time, but it was something that wasn't 'Yellow.' It was something that didn't hurt to hear.
I don't think...
Before now, before right now, I don't think I ever thought about what I actually want, for me. I always think about... what will make people happy with me, because I'm happy when they're happy with me.
Or maybe happy isn't the right word.
I'm... relieved, I can relax, when people are happy with me.
...Except when I get angry enough to forget it matters.
He isn't mocking him with that; he means every word. The amount that his own happiness depends on that of those around him is significant. It's also just hard to see a better thing to do than make them feel good.
It took me a while too. Thinking about a future beyond that is hard even without other people.
He's not sure what to say, right away. His first reaction is a snap of resentment and jealousy. It's a reminder of how powerless he is, how much more powerless he'll be when the Dreamlands fade from the barge.
He wants it to heal. He also... doesn't. He wants it to be over.
It's very, very strange to have the sudden wish to talk to Arthur. Someone who understands that feeling.
Who showed you?
Information buys time, knowledge always matters--Larson proved him right on that one, at least.
Because how many things like them get injured? How many beings like them get torn apart? There's no books or spells to teach that. He learned how to heal by healing.
He looks, or directs his attention, or whatever you want to call 'watching' in the space they share. He's not enthusiastic about it, but he's doing as he's told.
He'll focus down on a little crack of gray, clearly just a spot that's in the end of it's cycle. Edwin can probably see and feel and hear the memories he's drawing on to make the area around it bright and molten and golden. And slowly, they roll over the gray mark and the feeling of something patched fades.
It's the two of them watching Hogfather for Christmas.
Oh. That-- doesn't hurt, exactly, no. That's not the right word. It aches, though. It makes him feel... Lonely is the wrong word, too. He feels strange and cut off from the warmth of the memory, like it's something behind a gelatinous, shifting barrier that will drown him if he tries to push through it. Like he's a ghost watching a better version of himself live the life that got taken away.
Yellow resists, briefly, half habit and half nerves and wholly not wanting to ruin the memory by touching it. He braces himself for it to crumble or darken or something as the thing he is brushes against John's recollection. Braces himself for a poisoned well, a fresh and different injury to his brother.
There are so many reasons. There are so many. Physically, he tucks little tighter underneath John's chin. Internally, the cascade of why colors his form in dim shades of emptiness that move over the surface of his being like spilled oil over water.
He's afraid he'll take so long to graduate that the Admiral will let him disappear. He's afraid John will get tired of waiting, that Arthur will graduate, that Astarion will, that they'll both get their deals and then Arthur will leave and John will go too because it's Arthur. He's angry, so angry about his own ignorance, so angry that John would be glad he doesn't know things, so angry at humans, humanity and its seesaw of hypocrisy. He's angry that the only time he's ever felt strong is in a dream. He's scared that no one will ever look at him and see anything but a knock-off of John, that he'll find out the people who love him do so because of how like his brother he manages to be. He's scared of never measuring up in John's eyes and angry for wanting to so fucking much.
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It's a good name.
Very very fond.
Did I tell you that my name was John Hart in one breach? I've considered using that one day, since John Doe has certain connotations in the mortal world. Maybe when I feel like I'm ready for it. Names can be... powerful that way.
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A pause.
I didn't really... think about it, when I picked Edwin. It didn't mean much to me at the time, but it was something that wasn't 'Yellow.' It was something that didn't hurt to hear.
I don't think...
Before now, before right now, I don't think I ever thought about what I actually want, for me. I always think about... what will make people happy with me, because I'm happy when they're happy with me.
Or maybe happy isn't the right word.
I'm... relieved, I can relax, when people are happy with me.
...Except when I get angry enough to forget it matters.
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He isn't mocking him with that; he means every word. The amount that his own happiness depends on that of those around him is significant. It's also just hard to see a better thing to do than make them feel good.
It took me a while too. Thinking about a future beyond that is hard even without other people.
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Larson-- Being with Larson felt like that. It made me remember feeling like that.
...Richter made me feel it and...
It didn't make me feel better, hurting him. I wanted it to make me feel better.
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He's quiet for a moment because he doesn't want to make it worse.
I learned how to heal. I can show you how to help it go faster.
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He wants it to heal. He also... doesn't. He wants it to be over.
It's very, very strange to have the sudden wish to talk to Arthur. Someone who understands that feeling.
Who showed you?
Information buys time, knowledge always matters--Larson proved him right on that one, at least.
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I had to find a way myself.
Because how many things like them get injured? How many beings like them get torn apart? There's no books or spells to teach that. He learned how to heal by healing.
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He can figure it out. He can do it himself, too.
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A pause before-
It's something I can do to help.
Can I?
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He stops himself. John can still feel it, the soft edge of resentment, the bitterness of weakness, the shame of ignorance.
Yellow stops himself, because his brother wants to help. John asks him for so fucking little.
Okay.
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And he does ask for so very little. There are times to cash that in and this feels like one of them.
For a lot of reasons.
Watch here. I still have a few spots left.
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It's the two of them watching Hogfather for Christmas.
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What kind of memories work?
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He reaches for Edwin, and if Edwin lets him, he'll pull him to touch the memory with him.
If it's hard, you can use some of mine.
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For better or worse, brother, you can't break me. Least of all when you don't want to. It's okay.
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There's no better present than a future.
He can feel it call to a piece of himself, he can feel the life in it, but he's--
He's afraid. He's afraid to make anything better, in case it gets worse again.
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The past happened. Being happy now won't change it.
There's no telling what's in the future, and being unhappy now won't automatically make it better. Or worse. Or anything.
All we have is right now to choose what makes us happy, to love one another.
Don't waste now.
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I'm... angry and scared and I don't... know how to be happy anyway. I don't know how to be happy when those things block everything else out.
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Why are you scared?
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None of it is 'now' things.
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He's afraid he'll take so long to graduate that the Admiral will let him disappear. He's afraid John will get tired of waiting, that Arthur will graduate, that Astarion will, that they'll both get their deals and then Arthur will leave and John will go too because it's Arthur. He's angry, so angry about his own ignorance, so angry that John would be glad he doesn't know things, so angry at humans, humanity and its seesaw of hypocrisy. He's angry that the only time he's ever felt strong is in a dream. He's scared that no one will ever look at him and see anything but a knock-off of John, that he'll find out the people who love him do so because of how like his brother he manages to be. He's scared of never measuring up in John's eyes and angry for wanting to so fucking much.
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For the future: if you had to prove without a shadow of a doubt that any of them would happen, show evidence... could you?
Or is it just a possibility?
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