So Hunter lets himself in, gently peering into the room before he closes the door quietly behind him. He's in a t-shirt and watermelon printed pyjama bottoms, now - he's planning on staying for however long this takes.
And - Flapjack flits off his shoulder with a loud, concerned chirp as he lands on the back of the couch, looking down at the crown with worry in his open eye, as Hunter comes and sits next to Edwin. Gently nudging a plushie closer to the crown so he doesn't sit on it.
"Edwin?" His voice is gentle, and he reaches a hand towards the crown - but stops short, not quite touching. "Can we talk?"
He slowly unspools from the crown, reaching a tentacle toward Flapjack-- and then flinching back abruptly when he sees it's still got blood on it. He didn't realize it would stay. Or is it staying because he's still thinking about it?
"I don't know. It usually takes a few hours. I wasn't gone that long, but. It's his warden's problem."
He pulls his hand back, fidgeting them in his lap. They're free of blood, he made sure of it, under every nail and out of every divot of scarring. "Can I... hold your crown? It's okay to say no, if you don't want to."
He's not wrong, though, and Hunter has to wonder why he cut himself off like that - so there's fresh bubbles of curiosity when he does take the crown, folding his legs and resting it in his lap rather than on his head, stroking the tines with his thumbs.
But overall he's... tired. Drained, emotionally, the torrent from before before now gentle waves that expand more easily through his mind. Still deep, but not - drowning.
The touch on his crown is so soothing. It starts to settle his own agitation almost at once, though it doesn't wash out the guilt or the shame or the disappointment that he didn't trigger any memories, didn't think of anything to help his brother or Arthur escape... him. Didn't make him feel better about the way the Butcher trapped him before, when they talked about his music.
He knew it wouldn't make him feel better, and he did it anyway, because maybe. Maybe he was wrong.
[I...] He doesn't know where to start. [There was so much... happening. And I couldn't... When I thought I-- I thought I...]
He takes another moment to try and put his thoughts into some kind of order. A line in which they can be presented even if that line isn't the order in which things were thought or felt.
[John and Arthur disappeared. And then I found out about what I am. And then Arthur came back, and we fought, and he disappeared again, and I wanted... I wanted... something to make... sense, to be simple, and I thought-- I wanted to do that to the Butcher because he trapped me before. When I was in my crown. And I thought if I hurt him, tortured him, maybe it would bring the King's memories back at least a little. If I acted like the King, I could remember him. Maybe I would know where John was or what the King did to Arthur, because his scars were different than the ones I remember, so-- But it didn't. It didn't do anything but kill Collins. And he didn't do anything to... deserve that.]
"Okay." Not dismissive, just accepting the premise. And his thoughts kick into gear with light bubbles of curiosity, thinking hard about this.
"I wanna ask you something. When... you first met Arthur. He already told you that you were the King in Yellow. Maybe you didn't know it for sure at the time, but... what made knowing with your file feel so different?"
[It was different. I thought I was a piece, like John. I- I know we're... similar, still. With what happened and what we don't remember and... all of that, but- but before I was, I thought I was something that...
I wasn't as bad before. Being a piece meant-- I wasn't as bad.]
"How come? When you were... whole, as the King. You were still part of it doing all those... things to begin with. Being separated wouldn't have stopped that from being true."
He's not sure how to explain, he's not sure if there is anything to explain. John became John. There's no more room for blamelessness. John is John, so what the King did-- it's all Yellow's now.
"When I was an inmate- so, um. Back home, as well. Emperor Belos was... he was the reason I existed. I was meant to be an extension of his will, to execute his commands without question or hesitation." He fidgets gently with the crown, turning it in his hands. "I was called the Golden Guard."
There's an attentiveness in his silence, curiosity edging its way into his emotional morass. Curiosity at least is... good. It's one that always feels good.
Curiosity is good. It's not fear, and it prompts Hunter to continue. "Ever since I was made, my entire life revolved around doing everything I could to make him happy. To make sure he thought I was... useful enough to keep- existing. But, um."
He settles the crown in his lap but doesn't let go. "We found out that he was lying. My friend Luz and I. And when I tried to- just to ask him about it. He decided that it meant I didn't fit into his plan anymore, at all. So he tried to kill me."
"I guess so," he agrees softly. He doesn't mind the comparison.
"But it also means... I know what it's like when someone really doesn't care, what they do with you after they decide you're wrong. But every time you tell me about how you've hurt someone... you regret it. You don't like that you hurt someone, even if it's just because you got in trouble for it."
He smiles softly, a warm light through his mind. "The King wouldn't care. Belos didn't. But I always did. And so do you."
A wash of shock goes through him. It's unmooring, in a strange way, a way that isn't bad but isn't good either. Hunter is right. He does care. He cares more now than when he killed Chase, cared more when he killed Chase than when he killed Arthur. He cares. He knows the King never would. He's read the file enough times.
He's not sure what to make of the shock, but he keeps talking anyway.
"So I think... being Edwin means. You're making that- you're making a choice. To care. You want things to matter to you. And- sometimes that feels bad, because caring makes you feel worse when you do something that you know would upset them. But it's good, too. It means... you have something to hold onto, when things get hard. That there's things worth living for."
It will be a good thing, once it settles. Once the jolt of distance between who he is--Yellow, Edwin, Undecided--and the careless thing he was stops being such a revelation.
[I want... to be better. I want to really be better. To... I don't want to hurt people. I want to... help.]
"Me too," he says warmly, with a gentle squeeze on the crown, like a hug. "That's why my dad started tutoring me in medicine. It was a way for me to help people."
"Yeah, of course!" His tone is warm, quietly excited, but there's a sudden and aggressive flash of delight through him, excitement at being able to teach Edwin something he knows and cares so much about. "It can be pretty difficult sometimes, there's a lot to learn, but- I think you might enjoy it!"
The delight and excitement lift his spirits, and the lift gets chased immediately by guilt.
[I want to. To help people. To learn how to help them. I-I know I could just... heal them, with the power I used to have. But... I'd like to learn what you care about. And how to when I don't have power.]
He's quiet for just long enough that he's clearly hesitating, but not long enough for Hunter to interject, quite.
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And - Flapjack flits off his shoulder with a loud, concerned chirp as he lands on the back of the couch, looking down at the crown with worry in his open eye, as Hunter comes and sits next to Edwin. Gently nudging a plushie closer to the crown so he doesn't sit on it.
"Edwin?" His voice is gentle, and he reaches a hand towards the crown - but stops short, not quite touching. "Can we talk?"
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Regardless, he emerges enough to vocalize.
"Yes. I-- Is Collins...?"
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He pulls his hand back, fidgeting them in his lap. They're free of blood, he made sure of it, under every nail and out of every divot of scarring. "Can I... hold your crown? It's okay to say no, if you don't want to."
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He's not wrong, though, and Hunter has to wonder why he cut himself off like that - so there's fresh bubbles of curiosity when he does take the crown, folding his legs and resting it in his lap rather than on his head, stroking the tines with his thumbs.
But overall he's... tired. Drained, emotionally, the torrent from before before now gentle waves that expand more easily through his mind. Still deep, but not - drowning.
"...what happened?"
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He knew it wouldn't make him feel better, and he did it anyway, because maybe. Maybe he was wrong.
[I...] He doesn't know where to start. [There was so much... happening. And I couldn't... When I thought I-- I thought I...]
He takes another moment to try and put his thoughts into some kind of order. A line in which they can be presented even if that line isn't the order in which things were thought or felt.
[John and Arthur disappeared. And then I found out about what I am. And then Arthur came back, and we fought, and he disappeared again, and I wanted... I wanted... something to make... sense, to be simple, and I thought-- I wanted to do that to the Butcher because he trapped me before. When I was in my crown. And I thought if I hurt him, tortured him, maybe it would bring the King's memories back at least a little. If I acted like the King, I could remember him. Maybe I would know where John was or what the King did to Arthur, because his scars were different than the ones I remember, so-- But it didn't. It didn't do anything but kill Collins. And he didn't do anything to... deserve that.]
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"I wanna ask you something. When... you first met Arthur. He already told you that you were the King in Yellow. Maybe you didn't know it for sure at the time, but... what made knowing with your file feel so different?"
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I wasn't as bad before. Being a piece meant-- I wasn't as bad.]
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"How come? When you were... whole, as the King. You were still part of it doing all those... things to begin with. Being separated wouldn't have stopped that from being true."
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He's not sure how to explain, he's not sure if there is anything to explain. John became John. There's no more room for blamelessness. John is John, so what the King did-- it's all Yellow's now.
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"When I was an inmate- so, um. Back home, as well. Emperor Belos was... he was the reason I existed. I was meant to be an extension of his will, to execute his commands without question or hesitation." He fidgets gently with the crown, turning it in his hands. "I was called the Golden Guard."
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He settles the crown in his lap but doesn't let go. "We found out that he was lying. My friend Luz and I. And when I tried to- just to ask him about it. He decided that it meant I didn't fit into his plan anymore, at all. So he tried to kill me."
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It's still curious, though there's a fresh wash of guilt with it. Hunter is like John, and Yellow is like Belos.
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"But it also means... I know what it's like when someone really doesn't care, what they do with you after they decide you're wrong. But every time you tell me about how you've hurt someone... you regret it. You don't like that you hurt someone, even if it's just because you got in trouble for it."
He smiles softly, a warm light through his mind. "The King wouldn't care. Belos didn't. But I always did. And so do you."
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"So I think... being Edwin means. You're making that- you're making a choice. To care. You want things to matter to you. And- sometimes that feels bad, because caring makes you feel worse when you do something that you know would upset them. But it's good, too. It means... you have something to hold onto, when things get hard. That there's things worth living for."
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[I want... to be better. I want to really be better. To... I don't want to hurt people. I want to... help.]
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[I want to. To help people. To learn how to help them. I-I know I could just... heal them, with the power I used to have. But... I'd like to learn what you care about. And how to when I don't have power.]
He's quiet for just long enough that he's clearly hesitating, but not long enough for Hunter to interject, quite.
[Wh... What happens now?]
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