[Let it never be said that when L sets out to accomplish a task, he is not thorough about the attempt. So thorough that occasionally he is taken aback by the fallout; the boy's curling flinch, both their knees sinking into sand.
Far from his own dream and his own overheating mind, L's focus drifts sometimes. He forgets that he is dreaming, and his ability to return relies on will, lucidity, resourcefulness. He forgets now, briefly, as Paul's voice becomes the impending storm, that can strike or scar him every bit as much as Lycka's teeth had if he meets that misfortune, here.]
Then you're safe.
[The bottom line, that he wasn't aware of because he was obsessively running numbers in a dream. Trust was not an accusation, however ambivalent Paul may be about the word. It was a question, asking if it's OK for him to feel the relief he does. He reaches out a hand to touch Paul's shoulder, in turn, attempting to steady and ground his Bonded, but his own foundation seems unsteady, unbalanced and deeply off, like running from an earthquake while on rollerskates.]
I know some of it.
[He's seen thousands of possibilities for how the Leviathan could have killed, or been killed. Every little piece of the battle, arranged differently in infinite ways. Of course some of them involved corrections of actions that weren't optimal, on the parts of many, including L himself.
Guilt gnaws at him, especially, for the course he was carried through when he was cursed. Seeking suffering like some sort of transcendent state of holiness, he'd wasted time being poisoned and sick. He'd diverted resources and energy from places it could have counted more. He's the worst, really.]
What is it that I don't know?
[He doesn't ask how much time has passed in the Waking World since the beast fell, though he would surely benefit from knowing. Lycka might have saved his sanity by knocking him away from his own dream, but she also severely threw off his sense of time.]
no subject
Far from his own dream and his own overheating mind, L's focus drifts sometimes. He forgets that he is dreaming, and his ability to return relies on will, lucidity, resourcefulness. He forgets now, briefly, as Paul's voice becomes the impending storm, that can strike or scar him every bit as much as Lycka's teeth had if he meets that misfortune, here.]
Then you're safe.
[The bottom line, that he wasn't aware of because he was obsessively running numbers in a dream. Trust was not an accusation, however ambivalent Paul may be about the word. It was a question, asking if it's OK for him to feel the relief he does. He reaches out a hand to touch Paul's shoulder, in turn, attempting to steady and ground his Bonded, but his own foundation seems unsteady, unbalanced and deeply off, like running from an earthquake while on rollerskates.]
I know some of it.
[He's seen thousands of possibilities for how the Leviathan could have killed, or been killed. Every little piece of the battle, arranged differently in infinite ways. Of course some of them involved corrections of actions that weren't optimal, on the parts of many, including L himself.
Guilt gnaws at him, especially, for the course he was carried through when he was cursed. Seeking suffering like some sort of transcendent state of holiness, he'd wasted time being poisoned and sick. He'd diverted resources and energy from places it could have counted more. He's the worst, really.]
What is it that I don't know?
[He doesn't ask how much time has passed in the Waking World since the beast fell, though he would surely benefit from knowing. Lycka might have saved his sanity by knocking him away from his own dream, but she also severely threw off his sense of time.]