( there's a faint shake of his head--not that he isn't alright, not that he isn't able to endure this kind of thing, this kind of truth. but more that as much as he tries, as much as he wants to be, he still has so much to atone for; he still has a long way to go to being the sort of big brother that he's always wanted to be, and even such gentle, kind praise feels like it's something he should refute, something he shouldn't receive.
that faint touch, the cup of palamedes' human hand, does make his gaze lift again to look at him; he considers it for a moment, as though trying to decide carefully what to say. )
...It isn't a problem, for me. The truth of the matter is something that I've known for a long time, longer than the rest of them. And I can be strong for the rest of them. I'm honored to be their brother. It's more...
( his fingertips brush, carefully, over one tapered end of one tentacle--gently tracing over one of the suckers there, idly, like it still brings him some measure of comfort. )
...I worry that you, of all people, would want someone human...beside them. And I don't know if I've earned that. I don't know if I've learned enough, to be human.
( his eyes close, briefly, a rueful sort of half-smile, a little twisted; when his eyes open again, it's to look down at the small space between them. )
It's a little ridiculous. I don't know where my head is. You make it...When I'm around you, it feels... like I'm not thinking with my head. ( the breath that escapes sounds near a laugh. ) Is that normal?
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that faint touch, the cup of palamedes' human hand, does make his gaze lift again to look at him; he considers it for a moment, as though trying to decide carefully what to say. )
...It isn't a problem, for me. The truth of the matter is something that I've known for a long time, longer than the rest of them. And I can be strong for the rest of them. I'm honored to be their brother. It's more...
( his fingertips brush, carefully, over one tapered end of one tentacle--gently tracing over one of the suckers there, idly, like it still brings him some measure of comfort. )
...I worry that you, of all people, would want someone human...beside them. And I don't know if I've earned that. I don't know if I've learned enough, to be human.
( his eyes close, briefly, a rueful sort of half-smile, a little twisted; when his eyes open again, it's to look down at the small space between them. )
It's a little ridiculous. I don't know where my head is. You make it...When I'm around you, it feels... like I'm not thinking with my head. ( the breath that escapes sounds near a laugh. ) Is that normal?