If nothing else might be said for the Fool, it should at least be readily apparent to Devin now that he is doggedly persistent.
"What makes a monster?" He hardly frames it as a philosophical question; it would sound almost accusatory if it weren't accompanied by another gentle touch to Devin's arm, where his hand lingers. He goes on. "I've endured cruelty at the hands of mortal men who saw a fey child at court and made my torment their sport. Is that not monstrous because they were born, lived, and died as living things do? Was the one who murdered me not monstrous because we shared a lineage?" He shakes his head and says quietly, "I know what the people of your world mean to you, even if they will never know what you have given up for them. If you take a monster's measure by how little they care for those around them, then you fall far short of that mark."
For another weighted moment he stares at Devin's profile and the tension tightening his jaw. His fingers curl in the fabric of his sleeve, and when he speaks again there is a note of finality in his voice. "Whatever my feelings might be, I meant what I said to you when we met in the library. I want nothing from you that you do not wish to give." His hand loosens, then falls away. "If you must reject me, then do so because changing our friendship is not what you desire to do. I am not a child; I will respect your wishes. But don't push me away to protect me from danger." This is said with a touch of reproach, though the delivery is far from cold.
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"What makes a monster?" He hardly frames it as a philosophical question; it would sound almost accusatory if it weren't accompanied by another gentle touch to Devin's arm, where his hand lingers. He goes on. "I've endured cruelty at the hands of mortal men who saw a fey child at court and made my torment their sport. Is that not monstrous because they were born, lived, and died as living things do? Was the one who murdered me not monstrous because we shared a lineage?" He shakes his head and says quietly, "I know what the people of your world mean to you, even if they will never know what you have given up for them. If you take a monster's measure by how little they care for those around them, then you fall far short of that mark."
For another weighted moment he stares at Devin's profile and the tension tightening his jaw. His fingers curl in the fabric of his sleeve, and when he speaks again there is a note of finality in his voice. "Whatever my feelings might be, I meant what I said to you when we met in the library. I want nothing from you that you do not wish to give." His hand loosens, then falls away. "If you must reject me, then do so because changing our friendship is not what you desire to do. I am not a child; I will respect your wishes. But don't push me away to protect me from danger." This is said with a touch of reproach, though the delivery is far from cold.