"Devin," the Fool begins gently, but quiets himself. Instead, he listens, even though the sharing of these burdens seems to tug and tear at old wounds already aggravated by Bobby's presence in Aifaran; but maybe letting the air in will enable them to heal properly, as they haven't been able to before, and perhaps if Devin can bring himself to share this much with the Fool, then maybe, possibly--
"...I am a death sentence to the people around me."
"Please look at me."
The request is delivered softly, without reprimand, but the immediacy of it hopefully is enough to ground Devin in the present moment, where he sits safe and uninjured on the great continent turtle's head, in the company of one who means him no harm. He waits until their eyes can meet, hesitates, then moves his touch from Devin's shoulder to his cheek; just fingertips at first, and then, tenderly, the back of one curved finger. The touch is brief, and silent, and it is only a matter of seconds before he draws his hand back. "We are alive, now." A moment's hesitation, before he insists softly, "I am alive now. Life, for the living, has only one guarantee, and that is that it has an end, but the choices we make with the time given to us are ours."
(Wretchedly unfair, the Fool has thought on more than one occasion, that his own decisions so often decided the fate of the future. He could have turned his back on his calling; he did not. He'd made his choice.)
There he grows quiet, his eyes at last darting away to rest on the water line; the sunrise is imminent now. The Fool takes a breath and goes on. "You've been through so much that I would be cruel to fault you for keeping those around you at arm's length. But I beg you not to do it for my sake alone," he says finishes quietly, looking to Devin again. His gaze is pleading. "Don't take the choice away from me."
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"Devin," the Fool begins gently, but quiets himself. Instead, he listens, even though the sharing of these burdens seems to tug and tear at old wounds already aggravated by Bobby's presence in Aifaran; but maybe letting the air in will enable them to heal properly, as they haven't been able to before, and perhaps if Devin can bring himself to share this much with the Fool, then maybe, possibly--
"...I am a death sentence to the people around me."
"Please look at me."
The request is delivered softly, without reprimand, but the immediacy of it hopefully is enough to ground Devin in the present moment, where he sits safe and uninjured on the great continent turtle's head, in the company of one who means him no harm. He waits until their eyes can meet, hesitates, then moves his touch from Devin's shoulder to his cheek; just fingertips at first, and then, tenderly, the back of one curved finger. The touch is brief, and silent, and it is only a matter of seconds before he draws his hand back. "We are alive, now." A moment's hesitation, before he insists softly, "I am alive now. Life, for the living, has only one guarantee, and that is that it has an end, but the choices we make with the time given to us are ours."
(Wretchedly unfair, the Fool has thought on more than one occasion, that his own decisions so often decided the fate of the future. He could have turned his back on his calling; he did not. He'd made his choice.)
There he grows quiet, his eyes at last darting away to rest on the water line; the sunrise is imminent now. The Fool takes a breath and goes on. "You've been through so much that I would be cruel to fault you for keeping those around you at arm's length. But I beg you not to do it for my sake alone," he says finishes quietly, looking to Devin again. His gaze is pleading. "Don't take the choice away from me."