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I want to learn without hurting others in the process.

[That would be the ideal scenario... or if he could just download some kind of update to his software that helped him regulate his emotions better.]

But no, nobody has ever taught me how to... cope. It's difficult, sometimes. I have to keep from becoming overwhelmed, or else I could self destruct.

[And staying calm has been exceptionally difficult recently.]

So do we all, but there's no world I've heard of where mortals learn without making mistakes. And mistakes can hurt people.

[There are deeper theological considerations Myr could dwell on here, but that's something for another time.]

So we have to make best use of what we do learn, so none of that's in vain.

[...And then he actually stops walking, the fur on the back of his neck rising in alarm as Connor continues.

Aghast,] You could die if you become too emotional?

[Not precisely a foreign concept to a mage, but shocking even so.]

[Connor stops too, watching Myr as the fur on his neck stands up.]

Yes, unfortunately. I've managed to avoid such a fate so far, but everything... builds up.

[It's not just recent events. There's a backlog of grief there from losing the SQUIP and Justine. Trauma from being tortured in those cells by the Rathmores. He's never addressed any of it.]

It's becoming harder to keep myself stable.

[He smiles slightly, a habit of his meant to appease people, but it's a sad thing- and it's the sadness that carries in his voice.]

Maker's breath, [Myr's voice is a near-whisper.

He turns in Connor's direction, head tipped back as if he'd like to look the android in the eyes. (If he were aimed in the right direction.)]

Am I the first person you've told about this?

Yes.

[He hadn't wanted to worry anyone. He hadn't wanted to make this about him. It really hadn't been any of his business, and he'd pushed his way in anyway. He should have left it to the people who knew better. He should have known this was only going to end badly. He'd... miscalculated.]

I don't know what to do, Myr.

[He feels helpless, and he hates it.]

[This...isn't as much of a surprise as Myr thought it would be.

It's not even a foreign situation to him, worse. The Circles demanded a level of self-control and self-denial some mages just couldn't manage, but tried anyway, and tried to keep their struggling entirely secret from their Circlemates.

This is not the first time he's been last in line before a disaster...even not counting the time since he'd Bonded to L.

He takes a breath to steady himself, smoothing a hand through hair and fur both. When he speaks again, his voice is steady.]

We're going to sit down, first, since I'd not like to trip over something while we're talking about this.

[At "sit down", Crookytail leaves off lolloping around with Trouble and undulates over to nudge up against Myr's ankles. There's a bench nearby the wormipede can guide him to, at least.]

Then we'll talk about what to do.

[Connor nods even though Myr can't see it, with Trouble oozing back over (much slower than Crookytail) to see what's going on. Connor leans down to pick up the wormipede and carry him over to the bench, assuming Myr can handle getting to it fine on his own. He does keep an eye on him just incase, though.]

Thanks for this. I think I've needed to talk about it for a while now.

[Myr does make it safely to the bench with Crookytail's help, and promptly plunks down on it. He sets his staff and bag off to his side of it, leaving them to the wormipede to guard.]

It sounds as if you have. How long as this been going on?

[The urge is very much there to reach out and put a reassuring hand on Connor. He folds his hands in his lap for the moment to resist it (speaking of Circle discipline).]

I... I'm not sure.

[He has a perfect memory, but where his emotions are concerned it's difficult to say. He doesn't always recognise what his emotions are supposed to be.]

I think losing Justine and the SQUIP was upsetting, but I've noticed that ever since the Rathmores tortured me I've been...

[He doesn't know what the word is. He gestures emphatically to his chest, as if Myr could see it and understand what he means.]

I don't know. I've never been asked to put my emotions into words before. It's difficult. I'm sorry.

[Myr's expression and ears both fall--at the mention of Justine, and the Rathmores. (It's harder to be upset about the loss of the SQUIP, though knowing what losing it had done to Connor means he can, at least, try.)

He can't see the gesture but can infer something of it, from the sound and the way the air moves around them.]

Don't be, little spark, [he says, gently.] This is hard work you've never done before.

[A breath, in and out.] Since the Rathmores tortured you, you've been...wounded. Afraid? Helpless? Angry?

Helpless.

[That seems to fit.]

I couldn't stop them. And it... scared me. When I was freed, I spent a good while being afraid it would happen again. Even after they were executed, I felt unsafe. Incapable of protecting myself anymore.

[But what does he expect? He can fight, but magic will always win out over fists. And the only magic he has either requires him to be wet, or for water to be nearby.]

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