"I know it's really complicated, I don't know if I entirely understand, but there's not a lot wrong with learning how to do it alone in case you have to."
"I think....I don't always want to understand people. Not when I'm - I mean, the legacy I have. Most of my keepers make a very professional effort to be opaquely personable and keep any fear or resentment or pity entirely invisible. It feels - both masochistic and ungrateful, to try to pry open those blinds."
Sometimes he thinks about asking for Commander Talaw. She thought of him enough to send the cards - but maybe that was just for saving her life from the Revenant's purge. She wouldn't be able to hide it, if she hates him, and well she might, for Dhanneth and her entire bridge crew. He knows he couldn't take that.
"I mean, you could just decide, fuck these shitty humans, their feelings and souls are transient and puny, let me be the owl, and then go- solve some amazing mystery or master a new magic or topple another empire."
"That's exactly how Kujen felt," he says softly, and doesn't know how he feels about it at all.
About the sheer prescient clarity of the description, point for point, or the fact that it's being offered to him as a suggestion, or that it's being offered by Quentin, of light eyes and long frame and deep mathematics.
"There's a way to think that without thinking it. To be beyond us without scorning us. I think it has to do with compassion."
Reasons Quentin, softening some.
"I've been expansive. I was a god for a little while; I killed one, and absorbed all its' powers, and lived a millenia with all of that at my fingertips. I don't remember it very well, but I remember feeling very gentle. I just mended."
"We don't have moths, we have river dragons. And when humans were having their own big war, the dragons waded in for us. They fought gods for us, powerful beings that could wink them out of existence at will."
Says Quentin, closing his eyes.
"And when it was over their numbers were decimated- but they'd all been alive and immortal so long that they'd opted to stop, then forgotten how to reproduce."
"Oh," he says softly, with a bewildered sort of awe. Dragons. Are real.
It should hardly be shocking, all things considered, and yet - to some corner of his mind, otherwise steeped in exotics and jaded to the strange folds of gatespace, dragons still feels like what real magic does to a child from Earth. "What are they like?"
He doesn't have Jedao's fluid, balletic, incisive grace, but he has the raw flexibility and balance; he slides to his feet easily enough, and offers his hands to pull Quentin.
He shakes his head; he doesn't know how to change, and he's not at all sure Kujen would have wanted him to have that ability. Not that he necessarily understood all of what Jedao would be. "Spells are fine."
"I didn't follow his suspicions entirely," Jedao allows, evasive in the interests of Teddy's privacy. There were things he told Jedao that he did not offer publicly.
"But he put me in mind of it. Our variable layout is a product of using moths, of course."
He takes a bracing breath. Better here than at the Citadel of Eyes; he views it less a question of a lot of feelings to endure in a short time, and more in terms of the practical reality that he will feel these things now, here, where he can afford to be so exposed and uncontrolled - or never.
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He says, with such faith.
"I know it's really complicated, I don't know if I entirely understand, but there's not a lot wrong with learning how to do it alone in case you have to."
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Sometimes he thinks about asking for Commander Talaw. She thought of him enough to send the cards - but maybe that was just for saving her life from the Revenant's purge. She wouldn't be able to hide it, if she hates him, and well she might, for Dhanneth and her entire bridge crew. He knows he couldn't take that.
"But I think he always wants to know."
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He reasons, thoughtfully.
"I mean, you could just decide, fuck these shitty humans, their feelings and souls are transient and puny, let me be the owl, and then go- solve some amazing mystery or master a new magic or topple another empire."
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About the sheer prescient clarity of the description, point for point, or the fact that it's being offered to him as a suggestion, or that it's being offered by Quentin, of light eyes and long frame and deep mathematics.
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Reasons Quentin, softening some.
"I've been expansive. I was a god for a little while; I killed one, and absorbed all its' powers, and lived a millenia with all of that at my fingertips. I don't remember it very well, but I remember feeling very gentle. I just mended."
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"I don't think moths really get that big. My ship wasn't beyond humans, it just wanted to be away from them."
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Reasons Quentin, quietly.
"Did Jedao tell you about the deal that brought me here? You kind of remind me of it."
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Says Quentin, closing his eyes.
"And when it was over their numbers were decimated- but they'd all been alive and immortal so long that they'd opted to stop, then forgotten how to reproduce."
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It should hardly be shocking, all things considered, and yet - to some corner of his mind, otherwise steeped in exotics and jaded to the strange folds of gatespace, dragons still feels like what real magic does to a child from Earth. "What are they like?"
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He asks, reaching up to draw a thumb across his face, to brush the tears away.
"I can show you."
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"Really?"
Please.
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His back does not like bathroom floor cuddling, not one bit.
"Can you be a moth? The flying kind. Or is it okay if I cast a bit of a spell on you for space in this body?"
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He shakes his head; he doesn't know how to change, and he's not at all sure Kujen would have wanted him to have that ability. Not that he necessarily understood all of what Jedao would be. "Spells are fine."
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"Okay."
Good to go.
"We need the Enclosure for this one."
He moves to lead the way.
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He asks, and reaches to take Jedao's elbow.
"I try not to read the network."
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Pointing out, raising an eyebrow.
"I mean, I've heard of weirder things being sentient, but there's absolutely zero indication that that's the case."
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"But he put me in mind of it. Our variable layout is a product of using moths, of course."
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Wonders Quentin, who above all doesn't want to do any harm.
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Says Quentin, ready to trust him. In that case, he begins to lead the way.
"So- I think this will be good, but also maybe I should warn you bittersweet? Are you- up for one more emotional thing today?"
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"Yes, alright."
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"I care about you like crazy, already. Thanks for giving me a second chance."
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