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[howtheyshine]

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[deuceoftears]

Yes, definitely.

Do you want me to come to come to your cabin?

[howtheyshine]

plwase I can nit sww from in my crown and i miss the miyntaun

[deuceoftears]

[Jedao isn't sure about all those words, but plwase is clear enough.]

Okay, I'll be there in just a few minutes.

[He swings by the library to pick up a handful of books on the return carrel in the Earth Poetry section, in case Edwin doesn't like Andan poetry, especially in translation. He figures the stuff on the carrel is probably a good sample of the stuff people like. Then he hustles to Edwin's cabin and lets himself in.]

Hi, darling.

[howtheyshine]

He can't see his mountain view from inside the crown, Jedao, it's terrible.

He'll find Edwin balanced on the head of his Flapjack plushie, in the middle of his conversation pit, a few spindly ribbons doing the bulk of the work on the communicator sitting in front of him. Or in front of Flapjack, anyway. At least when he types, the communicator reads the message aloud, just like JD's can. Unfortunately, his spelling isn't stellar right now, with the tiny limbs and the poor, hazy vision.

Please know that the punctuation is all named aloud, ellipsis...

"Jwdao!! Omso borwd hwlp cant sww."

[deuceoftears]

Oh, dear. Jedao's mouth flattens with a flare of anger, but he swallows it down. Whoever did this, Edwin is his first priority now.

"I'm here," he promises, immediately descending into the pit, sitting next to the plushie, setting his books and slate beside him.

"Can you wear me, like this?"

[howtheyshine]

"Yes."

As soon as he hammers out the one word on his communicator, Edwin reaches several thready limbs in Jedao's direction.

[deuceoftears]

Jedao scoops him up instantly, his whole self open, offering Edwin whatever sense he most wishes to take. He cradles the crown in his hands for a moment, like a child like a kitten, before gently setting it it on his head, immensely careful not to put any pressure on the cracks.

There's a strange duality to his internal emotional landscape, like the rush of pioneer species on a volcano's slopes, the first spring after an ashfall. Jedao is still shaken from everything at the beginning of the month, but less so than he was when he took Edwin to the beach. And his love and worry and tenderness for Edwin are thriving in him in a sprawling, vivid, lush profusion.

I've got you, darling, he promises.

[howtheyshine]

Edwin immediately reaches for sight and physical sensation, his relief like a high flute note in Jedao's mind, carrying and maybe startlingly sharp. He weaves several thin limbs through Jedao's hair, clinging the way a child a kitten might to someone's shoulder.

[ Death tolling is terrible and I hate it. ]

[deuceoftears]

I'm so angry at whoever hurt you, Jedao says, and it's true, although he keeps a tight rein on his inner indulgence of the feeling. It's there but only if you look for it, like crouching down to feel the faint warmth from below the mountain ash.

I'm so sorry you're miserable.

His head aches, a little; as Edwin takes on his sensations, it seems he also must share in some of the previously disembodied misery of Edwin's toll. That's alright, though; he's happy to carry it.

[howtheyshine]

[ I killed him before he broke me. ...I guess after he broke me, since he did that before he died. ]

That's a consolation. There's definitely the sense of Edwin spreading out, almost, a cat sprawled across a favorite bed instead of curled up snugly inside it. Relief to have room. To see, to be able to feel things, the heat and damp of the air, the sunset view of his (as he's come to think of it) mountain.

Edwin lets out a slow, relieved sigh.

[ ...Can we water my plants? I need to check on my plants. ]

He doesn't, really, he tended to them before his animal escapades, they're in the greenhouse (or its little dry corner) depending on their needs, but he hasn't gotten to touch them for days.

[deuceoftears]

Of course. You'll have to tell me which ones need water, Jedao tells him, since Edwin is using his sight. He still has his mothsense, though, so it's easy enough to navigate out of the pit and survey each of the planters.

[howtheyshine]

None of them do, truthfully, but it settles Edwin's very rattled nerves to touch the plants and feel the waxiness or smoothness or softness or sharpness of the leaves and stems and flowers. He huddles into the safety of Jedao's protectiveness and slowly calms down as he takes in the plants, the glass walls and forest beyond, feels like he can breathe for the first time in several days even though he doesn't have his own lungs or the need to do it.

[ Thank you. I... forgot. What it was like. To be stuck. Really stuck. ]

[deuceoftears]

I hope you have a long time to forget again Jedao murmurs, with another surge of tenderness like the seconds of an extra-tight squeeze in a longer hug.

[howtheyshine]

[ Me too.

I'll stay out of reach next time. Stab the wrists first so their hands don't work. ]

[deuceoftears]

Stabbing wrists puts you closer to in reach than I like. Go for the knee tendons, then they'll fall over and they can't follow you, Jedao advises, like the very responsible adult he is.

[howtheyshine]

[ Knee tendons. ]

Note to self. Knee tendons. Knee tendons.

[ I should have attacked through the shelves in the library. ]

Still kind of sort of petting one of his begonias.

[deuceoftears]

If you can't get out of a fight at all, anyway. Belated responsibility, but also a flicker of genuine nervousness: there are a lot of people here with powers, and joint fuckery isn't always going to be enough to keep Edwin safe.

Why did you want to attack?

He's not judging. He just wants to know.

[howtheyshine]

There's a sudden quiet from Edwin. Hesitation, reluctance--but notably, no uncertainty. He knew when he did it that people would be unhappy about it. It's the thing that made him almost, almost not do it.

A defensive grumble that does absolutely nothing to hide the shared guilt: [ ...Because I wanted to. ]

[deuceoftears]

Honestly, Jedao can respect it.

I want to understand why you wanted to, Jedao tells him, and there's no stirring of additional anger - or even, really, disapproval or disappointment. There are some people on the barge Jedao would also like to kill, and if he doesn't do it, it's only because there are other things that matter to him more.

Some of those things are specific moral convictions, but it's not like Edwin isn't trying to figure out what his values are. Jedao trusts the process. So his emotions are calm, and a little rueful, and still full of the same warm, protective love as before.

But you don't have to tell me if you don't want to. I'll still be here with you, either way.

[howtheyshine]

It's reassuring. As reassuring as being able to see, as comforting as the feel of soft warm damp dirt. He still sounds sullen, but at least not defensive. Baby steps.

[ Because someone else killed the person I was going to kill first, before I could. ]

[deuceoftears]

It sounds like you had a lot of big feelings to deal with, Jedao observes, by which he mostly means, it sounds like Jedao is wandering in in the middle of the story.

Can you tell me from the beginning>

[howtheyshine]

He makes a soft, hesitant sound.

The beginning. The beginning-beginning was probably...

[ I got Hunter for my temporary warden. I liked him. But they change quickly, and we were in that circus, and I barely got to have him for my warden at all. Then he got someone else, and I was going to hurt his new inmate but Roman helped me... calm down. But then Collins said horrible things to me and to John, and he broke John, and I... I was going to kill him. Hurt him. Make a trap. I didn't have time. Someone else killed him first. So I... got angry. ]

[deuceoftears]

He what -

No one told Jedao about John. The flare of grief and anger and love and worry comes fast and hot and strong, and mentally he clings to Yellow, as though he could protect him from Jedao's own hammering heart by covering him well enough. He imagines holding him tight as he takes a deep breath, and lets that flare recede.

I didn't know. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you, he says, and he means it very profoundly. He understands why Yellow would be in a killing mood over it.

[howtheyshine]

That startles him into silence, the intensity of the feeling, the protectiveness, the apology. That part is confusing.

[ You didn't do anything wrong. You were having a bad time too. ]

[deuceoftears]

I know. But I still wish I could have helped. You're still important to me, even when I'm having a bad time, he explains, not feeling fully guilty, so much as just a little wistfully sad about it, wishing he could have been better for Edwin. Then he takes a deep breath and lets that go.

But what's done is done. Who did you end up going after, if not Collins?