[ He hadn't thought of it in that way. To him, the crime of deception had more to do with the big secrets he was keeping. The secret of his birth, his heritage, his true position, his true ambitions, goals, dreams. To watch Ethlyn connect the dots from his larger deceptions to smaller ones feels -- strange. Uncomfortable. He doesn't think he likes it, the thought that his deception is reflexive, unnecessary, obfuscating.
He is himself much of the time, isn't he? He's not hiding things just for the hell of it. But underneath a truth spell as he is, he cannot in good faith claim that he is himself. Not truly. Not even around himself. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, frowning down at the counter between them, pretending as though he doesn't feel a dull ache in the base of his chest just thinking about it. ]
I suppose so. It's just not safe. [ Here he is, in a place where nobody knows him, where nobody knows Fodlan or Almyra or any of the other storied places of his world and still, still, he cannot be himself. There is no reason why he should feel unsafe sharing himself here of all places, but he can't fight that horrible feeling that any given person he meets will be quick to stab him in the back. After an entire year, he can count the people he trusts around here on one hand, while everyone else finds comrades, housemates, confidantes, lovers, mere weeks after their arrival. ]
Where I'm from, [ he says slowly, ] spies are everywhere. You learn that quickly in the courts of Almyra, and you learn it the hard way. You can't even trust your own kin. It's them who send the lion's share of assassins after me. [ He's able to smile at her a little now, humourless, dejected. ] Some even followed me all the way to Fodlan.
no subject
[ He hadn't thought of it in that way. To him, the crime of deception had more to do with the big secrets he was keeping. The secret of his birth, his heritage, his true position, his true ambitions, goals, dreams. To watch Ethlyn connect the dots from his larger deceptions to smaller ones feels -- strange. Uncomfortable. He doesn't think he likes it, the thought that his deception is reflexive, unnecessary, obfuscating.
He is himself much of the time, isn't he? He's not hiding things just for the hell of it. But underneath a truth spell as he is, he cannot in good faith claim that he is himself. Not truly. Not even around himself. He shifts his weight from foot to foot, frowning down at the counter between them, pretending as though he doesn't feel a dull ache in the base of his chest just thinking about it. ]
I suppose so. It's just not safe. [ Here he is, in a place where nobody knows him, where nobody knows Fodlan or Almyra or any of the other storied places of his world and still, still, he cannot be himself. There is no reason why he should feel unsafe sharing himself here of all places, but he can't fight that horrible feeling that any given person he meets will be quick to stab him in the back. After an entire year, he can count the people he trusts around here on one hand, while everyone else finds comrades, housemates, confidantes, lovers, mere weeks after their arrival. ]
Where I'm from, [ he says slowly, ] spies are everywhere. You learn that quickly in the courts of Almyra, and you learn it the hard way. You can't even trust your own kin. It's them who send the lion's share of assassins after me. [ He's able to smile at her a little now, humourless, dejected. ] Some even followed me all the way to Fodlan.