deernet | text; un: padlocks

It is quite all right. Again, a matter I do relate to. I've... not been with people proper until quite recently. My last few decades were not ideal.

[There's clear dubiousness from Bigby in terms of his inner beast, but... for the sake of everything, he's willing to discuss this.]

It, erm. That was largely me, albeit competing with some very base instincts and... influence.

((I'd hear as much of those years as you would share with me. You have made a heroic effort alone to contain your beast. That's something I long thought required a whole people to succeed at.))

[Which, perhaps, explains the odd tack he's taking on this.]

((And when we,)) [he stops himself from saying hunted,] ((escaped the Sleeper Farm together? How much was you, while you were in its shape?))

Edited (rescuing escaped bracket) 2022-01-26 06:10 (UTC)

It is... it is nothing but misery, during those years. Would it not burden you to hear it all?

[Or upset Illarion or something like it. As if, after all of this, he's still concerned about Illarion's well-being before his own.]

It... was a mixed. As I told you then, I needed to be properly angry as my strength was sapped then. The thought of the children in danger frustrated me enough to help. But intense emotions like rage help call it out. To keep its worst impulses back... that is me.

The man you met the other night... that was, I suppose, a possibility of me. The part of me that wants to give up and just let it do as it pleases, along with a curse that is known to my homeland.

Edited 2022-01-26 06:20 (UTC)

((Yes, it would. And I would still hear it, because it burdens you, and I wouldn't have you bear that all alone. You were not made to carry all that's on your shoulders in isolation until it crushes you.))

[Two can play at that game.]

((And it forces itself to the fore if you're in mortal danger.)) [See: Falco and his own demon.]

((I...remember guessing as much, on seeing you. Disciple's intuition. Yet you were still present in him, in some fashion, too.))

[He's silent for several seconds, thinking.]

((In the moment, what did it feel like, to listen to that part?))

...Give me time, then. Speaking of it now would be-- it will only make this worse, at the moment.

[listen his stress levels are still at like 145/200 it is not the best]

Blinding. Powerful. Both thrilling and frightening, at the same time. So easy to forget where and who I was. There is a horrific kind of freedom in cooperating with it. It isn't... submission, strictly speaking. It is not as if it is completely in control, but its instincts I work with.

((When you're ready. I won't trouble you further with it before you are.))

[yes let him not make this any worse

He nods to himself to hear that description. That's not unfamiliar.]

((You direct those instincts into better channels. Rather than fight it for its head or let it run entirely where it wills. Letting it roam under the full moon--it helps both of you?))

[Thinking of,]

((Mind someone else patrolling your woods until you feel in better control? I'd not have you disturbed,)) [by beasts or overeager teenagers,] ((while you need solitude.))

To relinquish control for awhile, at least a bit... it balances things. It makes us both better. Like it or not, we are stuck with each other.

[Oh. That's... a good idea, actually.]

Please. For their sake.

[That's reassuring to hear, in its way. It speaks to future progress beyond stronger chains and binding spells.]

(("To every rose there is a fang; to every thorn, a claw; within the roots beat wild hearts, rem'mbering blood-stained maw--"

Even the most civilized among us need that wildness now and again. My heart aches that yours otherwise lies so heavily on you.))

[A little pause, a quiet huff.]

((For their sake, and for yours, dear one. One less worry while you regain yourself.))

Alas, that some of us must work that much harder to fight against ourselves. To follow impulse and desire is not innately wrong, yet...

Well. You know.

[There is warmth in hearing that. "Dear one." It is not unlike "brother of my heart" either.

If nothing else, he's relieved their bond is not broken.]

Thank you, my dear friend.

((I know.))

[One instinct in particular has been clawing at him now that he's dead again. He knows.]

((I am glad to do it.)) [And, very gently teasing--]

((Your other-self never did ask my name.)) [The offer's still open.]

Yes, well-- he was a bit more indulgent on matters of hunger, less on the heart. Even if he had considered it, for a moment.

...I would like to know, if you are willing to tell it to me.

((I thought he might be, though I threw out anything to tempt him.))

[Another little pause, for Illarion still has a sense of showmanship in him.]

((Illarion, who fought and was given his freedom beneath Albireo and bears no other stars on his banner.

I am pleased to make your acquaintance at last, Bigby.))

Edited (slight nuance edit) 2022-01-28 06:46 (UTC)

That you did. All things were effective, but material more than all other options.

[There's a pause, then softly he speaks:]

Illarion.

It is a pleasure. Shall I... keep it to myself?

[He needs to sit a moment with how it feels to hear his name in another's voice again, at last.

It's good. It would be stronger if he were alive, but if he'd given it up while alive, in that situation, the memory of it would be forever tainted by what followed--

So this is far better.]

((Yes, if you would. I trust it to you.

I trust, if I hear it in your voice, that it's you who calls me and not something I've imagined. I could not imagine you.))

Then I shall keep it to only us.

I should like to think you would imagine something better than I, in any case.

((Thank you.))

[He makes a low noise, then. A sound of pain.]

((No. I--no. Please don't compare yourself to what I can imagine. Even that worst vision of yourself is better.))

Perhaps your imagination could stand to be kinder to you then, my friend.

...Be well. And be better to yourself, please.

((Most of its unkindness is already done, I'm afraid.))

[Though he says it with weak humor.

(What was the trick for giving someone else your shining vision of who he was, and who he could be? Esfir had managed it with him.)]

((That goes for you, too, you know.

Rest, if you can. I'll keep the watch.))

text; un: padlocks

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