He twines around Jedao's partially-intact arm as gently as he can, shifting into the shape of a pale yellow snake. It's lighter, and somehow easier to remember not to squeeze when his whole body is made for squeezing.
I couldn't find you, couldn't-- couldn't feel you. I knew that was bad.
He shifts again, remembering the feel of his blobby, the gel-like surface, and hopes it will soothe instead of hurting. The hope is what makes it work, though he's not analyzing anything enough to notice: a soft healing like the cool side of a pillow on a feverish night, easing Jedao's pain everywhere Edwin touches the black shape of him.
"I'm sorry I didn't come faster. I had to- to make sure Madelyne was okay, and I was checking in with people, and while I was finding everyone I noticed I couldn't... couldn't find you. And no one else had. And--"
His voice breaks, even though he's trying to sound calm. This is the first time he's come so close to losing someone to violent circumstances. Really losing them. Even if Jedao isn't a regular person, even if he is preternaturally durable. For a few minutes under the bulk of that ship, Edwin understood his brother's reaction to Arthur's recent injuries perfectly. Except there's no one for him to be angry with about it. It's all sitting in his chest in a molten swirl.
"Oh -" For a moment Jedao thinks it's psychosomatic, that he just finds the old form comforting, the shape and the shine of Edwin's glossy unfinished form the first time Jedao got to hug him. But it's not just that, and the way it soothes the deep pulverized aches is an unbelievable relief.
"Thank you," he says again, feeling a bit silly.
"And, no, probably not. I'm sure there's a way to make it happen, but someone would have to put a lot of time and research and groundwork into shifting the local operations of physics to render me mortal and cut me off from sustaining myself from the void beyond gatespace. And if I made an enemy capable of doing that, I'd know, and I wouldn't give them enough time to follow through."
Jedao has thought about it. What would be necessary. Whether he would ever - but he's not tempted at all, now. Because even after Hakkai is gone, in five hundred years or five thousand years, Edwin will still be his baby. And Jedao wouldn't do that to him. So he'll have to keep vigilant about the possibility, just in case. But he is Crowned With Eyes, and vigilance is given to him.
"When the last of the iron stars go cold and drift apart, I'll swim through the dark with you, and lean on your shoulder when my old bones waver in the unsteady sands of Carcosa, and John will open the door for us. And then I suppose we'll figure out what's next."
The fact that Jedao won't be alone in his involuntarily immortality is deeply, profoundly comforting to him, and he sends that truth to Edwin, soft and heavy as a hundred years of snowfall, a gentle white blanket. He could be killed, only if he let himself be killed, and he never will.
The tension that trembles through his blobby shape starts to ease.
"Sometimes- There have been times when I sleep where I had nightmares about being alone." He shifts into the familiar cat-shape he used to use. "Where the universes all burn out and I'm the only thing alive in any of them, and I'm there because I got left behind somehow."
He's not sure why he confessed that now, but Jedao's injuries and the nightmares have a line drawn from one to the other in his head.
It's so nice to have dad-shaped snuggled after all of the chaos. He feels selfish being upset about Jedao being so fragile, not being able to cling the way he normally would, but it's one little selfish bit of upset in a growing collection of sedimentary layers. If he can soothe some of the ache and get snuggled at the same time, win-win.
"Is it going to be hard to heal? I can stay if that would help, like- like a scarf."
"Not...onerous? I just need to eat and wait." Resting would probably help too, but if he has to stay here where everyone can see him doing nothing he'll scream.
"But if you stay for some of the time, that would make me feel better about it all."
He stretches several long, flat, tentacle-like limbs in different directions, wrapping very gently around Jedao's dark spots, soothing more of the ache.
"I can do that. I can stay at least some of the time." He hesitates, then confesses, "I-I think I'm... too restless to stay the whole time. I want to- to help."
"That doesn't surprise me at all," Jedao says, in a very warm voice, shuddering just a little as the pain retreats. "We're all very lucky to have you with us."
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Thank you for getting me out, he says softly. I think it was very good that you did that quickly.
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I couldn't find you, couldn't-- couldn't feel you. I knew that was bad.
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Jedao gives up on his own aches and pulls Edwin back into his embrace with both arms, holds him too-tightly. It's the only thing that could be enough.
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"I'm sorry I didn't come faster. I had to- to make sure Madelyne was okay, and I was checking in with people, and while I was finding everyone I noticed I couldn't... couldn't find you. And no one else had. And--"
His voice breaks, even though he's trying to sound calm. This is the first time he's come so close to losing someone to violent circumstances. Really losing them. Even if Jedao isn't a regular person, even if he is preternaturally durable. For a few minutes under the bulk of that ship, Edwin understood his brother's reaction to Arthur's recent injuries perfectly. Except there's no one for him to be angry with about it. It's all sitting in his chest in a molten swirl.
"You're never going to die, are you?"
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"Thank you," he says again, feeling a bit silly.
"And, no, probably not. I'm sure there's a way to make it happen, but someone would have to put a lot of time and research and groundwork into shifting the local operations of physics to render me mortal and cut me off from sustaining myself from the void beyond gatespace. And if I made an enemy capable of doing that, I'd know, and I wouldn't give them enough time to follow through."
Jedao has thought about it. What would be necessary. Whether he would ever - but he's not tempted at all, now. Because even after Hakkai is gone, in five hundred years or five thousand years, Edwin will still be his baby. And Jedao wouldn't do that to him. So he'll have to keep vigilant about the possibility, just in case. But he is Crowned With Eyes, and vigilance is given to him.
"When the last of the iron stars go cold and drift apart, I'll swim through the dark with you, and lean on your shoulder when my old bones waver in the unsteady sands of Carcosa, and John will open the door for us. And then I suppose we'll figure out what's next."
The fact that Jedao won't be alone in his involuntarily immortality is deeply, profoundly comforting to him, and he sends that truth to Edwin, soft and heavy as a hundred years of snowfall, a gentle white blanket. He could be killed, only if he let himself be killed, and he never will.
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"Sometimes- There have been times when I sleep where I had nightmares about being alone." He shifts into the familiar cat-shape he used to use. "Where the universes all burn out and I'm the only thing alive in any of them, and I'm there because I got left behind somehow."
He's not sure why he confessed that now, but Jedao's injuries and the nightmares have a line drawn from one to the other in his head.
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He drops a careful little kiss on Edwin's head.
"I won't do that to you."
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"Is it going to be hard to heal? I can stay if that would help, like- like a scarf."
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"But if you stay for some of the time, that would make me feel better about it all."
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"I can do that. I can stay at least some of the time." He hesitates, then confesses, "I-I think I'm... too restless to stay the whole time. I want to- to help."
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