"They're coming back, I promise." Even if the barge does lose them, Jedao will just. Go get them. He doesn't know how he would do that, but he has every confidence he can figure it out if he has to.
He pets Edwin's round 'back' gently.
"I understand," Jedao says quietly. "There are things I've done - and I mean, really really me, since I woke up without memories - that I'm terrified to tell people. Even if they say they'd still love me...part of me doesn't think they should love me. And they're good people with good judgement, so of course they won't. That's how it feels."
He gives Edwin another tight squeeze.
"I do, though. I love you so much. If you think those things were horrible, if you don't want to act like that anymore, that's good enough for me. If you want to tell me about the things you did as the King did back then, I'll listen and still love you. And if you don't want to tell me, I don't need to know. Because I know you now, and that's what's important to me."
He shifts, slowly, remembering what John told him about fluffing out his "fur" more like feathers so it will be softer.
"I wondered... sometimes... what it would be like to meet the King. What he would... if we could convince him-- But we won't, we can't, we don't need to. Because he's me."
He doesn't know what to do with all these contradictory feelings.
"It's hard to lose a hope," Jedao murmurs. "Even if parts of it are a relief, too. And it's hard to feel like...like there isn't anybody to tell you how to be the thing you are, when you're something different."
When Revenant left him - Jedao should hate him, for all their Kel he killed, for leaving him to take the fall, but he can't. Revenant was the only other moth who ever spoke to him. Part of Jedao still wishes desperately that it would come back, even though he knows it never will.
"You have John, but...he's still figuring things out, too. I get why you'd want the King to be someone you could talk to."
"And that was how... how John remembered what he was. Where he came from. The things he could do. The things he knew about the universe outside of the human sphere. A ritual that brought him back to the King. If that's me, if that's who I am, then... what does that mean? Do I never get to remember?"
He's numb, in an odd way he's never experienced, not that his general levels of experience are vast to begin with.
"I don't believe there's ever only one way to accomplish something," Jedao says thoughtfully. "Selfishly, I'm scared it will hurt you, and I don't want you to remember, even though I was - planning to do the same thing, to seek that out, when the Admiral found me. But if you decide you really do want it, I believe we could figure out a way."
"I... like knowing things. I like... knowing what I don't know about things, so I can learn. I want to... know what the universe is like. Truly like. I want to know that like John does."
The rest of it, the King's memories--he's a lot less interested in knowing those.
"The King must have learned it for himself once, however many ages past. You could do the same thing," Jedao points out. "Learn it through your own eyes."
"You're a lot better than him at asking good questions," Jedao says gently. "And listening. And being a friend. And gardening, probably. Even if he has the knowledge for it, I don't think he has the care. That's important for gardening."
Jedao drops a little kiss on the top of Edwin's head, gives him an extra squeeze.
"But...yeah. I get it."
Shuos Jedao might be only human, more or less, but he's killed a million people and probably fucked a thousand and survived centuries of torture and inspired and terrified and rewrote history, and sometimes - sometimes Jedao just wants not to feel so small in his hideous shadow.
"Oh. I was thinking of when I met the King," Jedao admits.
"But I think you're each better at different parts of being a friend. John is worse at...trusting people's care for him? It's hard to put into words. He'll decide that his troubles are too much fuss to bother with, and make people's decisions for them, sometimes, instead of confiding in people who want to be there for him."
"O-oh." Jedao thought the him Edwin meant was... oops. He should have let Jedao think that, maybe. "I... I don't care about being as good as the King at anything. I want to... to be as good as my brother. I don't even want to be better. I just want... to be as good."
"I think you're definitely as good a friend," Jedao says warmly. "Different, but as good overall. And I bet he'd love if you played a different instrument, and he could duet with you. Maybe we could look up the best instruments for little hands."
"Piccolo," he says, almost too quickly. Almost like he has possibly been thinking about that very thing and has been too shy to mention it until prompted.
"Do you know anyone who could teach you, or should I ask around?" Jedao asks.
In some ways, it's a small thing in the scheme of all the recent revelations, but in another way, it's something Edwin can do. He can't do anything about the looming mass of his past. But he could could learn to play the piccolo.
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He pets Edwin's round 'back' gently.
"I understand," Jedao says quietly. "There are things I've done - and I mean, really really me, since I woke up without memories - that I'm terrified to tell people. Even if they say they'd still love me...part of me doesn't think they should love me. And they're good people with good judgement, so of course they won't. That's how it feels."
He gives Edwin another tight squeeze.
"I do, though. I love you so much. If you think those things were horrible, if you don't want to act like that anymore, that's good enough for me. If you want to tell me about the things you did as the King did back then, I'll listen and still love you. And if you don't want to tell me, I don't need to know. Because I know you now, and that's what's important to me."
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"I wondered... sometimes... what it would be like to meet the King. What he would... if we could convince him-- But we won't, we can't, we don't need to. Because he's me."
He doesn't know what to do with all these contradictory feelings.
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When Revenant left him - Jedao should hate him, for all their Kel he killed, for leaving him to take the fall, but he can't. Revenant was the only other moth who ever spoke to him. Part of Jedao still wishes desperately that it would come back, even though he knows it never will.
"You have John, but...he's still figuring things out, too. I get why you'd want the King to be someone you could talk to."
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He's numb, in an odd way he's never experienced, not that his general levels of experience are vast to begin with.
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The rest of it, the King's memories--he's a lot less interested in knowing those.
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Jedao drops a little kiss on the top of Edwin's head, gives him an extra squeeze.
"But...yeah. I get it."
Shuos Jedao might be only human, more or less, but he's killed a million people and probably fucked a thousand and survived centuries of torture and inspired and terrified and rewrote history, and sometimes - sometimes Jedao just wants not to feel so small in his hideous shadow.
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"Better at being a friend? How am I better at being a friend than John?"
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"But I think you're each better at different parts of being a friend. John is worse at...trusting people's care for him? It's hard to put into words. He'll decide that his troubles are too much fuss to bother with, and make people's decisions for them, sometimes, instead of confiding in people who want to be there for him."
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In some ways, it's a small thing in the scheme of all the recent revelations, but in another way, it's something Edwin can do. He can't do anything about the looming mass of his past. But he could could learn to play the piccolo.
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Can he say it, is it okay, he doesn't know.
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And now he's going to hide his face against Jedao in MILD EMBARRASSMENT.
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"I love you, Edwin. Always."