[At that flinch, Vyng draws his hand back. His expression is still pinched with regret.]
You weren't thinking. [Far be it from Vyng to get angry at somebody for that.] Or being a dick on purpose. I get it.
[Belatedly, he recalls a crucial detail: Elves don't even exist in Wu's original world. Real or fictional. Of course Wu wouldn't realize it's a sensitive subject.]
It's just...you don't see ears like mine very often. Especially in human realms back home. [Listen to him, speaking of back home to explain why he hurt somebody—] So when people point it out, I get, uh. Really uncomfortable.
[That isn't even touching the baggage he's carrying from his youth. Labels that felt like a bird cage. Unfair expectations from his father. Slowly realizing he would never, ever be enough in the eyes of his peers. And then, on top of all that, the soul-wrenching despair that shook his world when he lost the one person who loved and accepted him through those tumultuous years.
Vyng likes to project the aura of somebody who's moved on. Somebody who found a way to rise above it all. He wants to believe washing onto Trench's shores made him into that person — a Druid born from the storms of hardship, but always focused on the horizon and the possibilities it holds.
But he was only fooling himself. He's still as ruled by the far past as the next Sleeper.
He sorely wishes he could cut this part of himself away. It would have saved his friend the humiliation of getting yelled at for...what, gifting a mask? Wu was trying to do him a favor.
Vyng's pale, scarred hand falls limply to his side. He doesn't quite meet Wu's gaze.]
I'm sorry for taking it out on you. You didn't know.
no subject
You weren't thinking. [Far be it from Vyng to get angry at somebody for that.] Or being a dick on purpose. I get it.
[Belatedly, he recalls a crucial detail: Elves don't even exist in Wu's original world. Real or fictional. Of course Wu wouldn't realize it's a sensitive subject.]
It's just...you don't see ears like mine very often. Especially in human realms back home. [Listen to him, speaking of back home to explain why he hurt somebody—] So when people point it out, I get, uh. Really uncomfortable.
[That isn't even touching the baggage he's carrying from his youth. Labels that felt like a bird cage. Unfair expectations from his father. Slowly realizing he would never, ever be enough in the eyes of his peers. And then, on top of all that, the soul-wrenching despair that shook his world when he lost the one person who loved and accepted him through those tumultuous years.
Vyng likes to project the aura of somebody who's moved on. Somebody who found a way to rise above it all. He wants to believe washing onto Trench's shores made him into that person — a Druid born from the storms of hardship, but always focused on the horizon and the possibilities it holds.
But he was only fooling himself. He's still as ruled by the far past as the next Sleeper.
He sorely wishes he could cut this part of himself away. It would have saved his friend the humiliation of getting yelled at for...what, gifting a mask? Wu was trying to do him a favor.
Vyng's pale, scarred hand falls limply to his side. He doesn't quite meet Wu's gaze.]
I'm sorry for taking it out on you. You didn't know.