[Carlisle can see Qubit is thinking, considering his words, and thus waits patiently, watching the drama in his mind play out across his face. All the while, the clergyman continues to twist his fingers nervously, wondering if that's how he lost the skin on them in the first place. Perhaps the Blight Heir had the same behaviors as Carlisle himself, and wrung his fingers in those horrible moments of clarity, times Carlisle can just barely remember when he attempts to do so.
His eyes wander back to Qubit as he finally finds his voice, his hands still within each other's grasp. The thought of someone being worried they would let him down is a relatively novel concept for Carlisle, one he has only really dealt with regarding Qubit. The technomancer was more wary of himself after their late-night discussion, when Qubit grabbed Carlisle by his bathrobe and shook him as though answers could be rattled out of his emaciated frame with enough force; Carlisle could tell he was afraid of it happening again, and of what would change between them if it did. Qubit feared himself after that, was more cautious of his temper simmering beneath his skin.
And despite that, Carlisle still stands by what he said: that Qubit is ultimately good. It's an unquantifiable feeling, but one his heart, long-dead as it may be, knows to be genuine. Explaining it is the tricky part.]
There are many elements that constitute good. It is subjective, be it in the eyes of the living, the divine, or otherwise. [Like himself.] I refuse to believe you to be an irredeemable thing, incapable of doing better. You want to do better, and even said so, and...
[His eyes fall, his brow knitting as he stumbles into a realization himself.]
... And so do I. I would be a hypocrite were I to change what I believe to be good for the sake of one man. And yet, I have done that to myself for as long as I've lived. Nothing I did was ever good enough. How could it be when I have let so many down? When I have been a disappointment time and time again, both in life and death?
[He steels himself with a breath, his hands releasing one another. How can he stay honest to his convictions if he believes Qubit to ultimately be good, but himself not to be?
It's simple, really: Carlisle has to admit that he himself is a more decent person than he'd like to believe. He has to sincerely trust what Qubit has said about him, and give himself an honest chance, too. His gaze makes its way back to Qubit, the sincerity nearly as bright as the light in his eyes as he hones in on Qubit's own words.]
Perhaps you will let me down again, but know this: I will not reject you, Mister Qubit. I will not abandon you, nor despise you, nor- nor feel contempt for you. I have lived with that fear. It is pure, unadulterated torment, the kind that can destroy even the strongest individuals.
[His fingers curl upon themselves, clawing his palms as he fights his anxious habits.]
I care far too much for you to allow you to suffer like that.
no subject
His eyes wander back to Qubit as he finally finds his voice, his hands still within each other's grasp. The thought of someone being worried they would let him down is a relatively novel concept for Carlisle, one he has only really dealt with regarding Qubit. The technomancer was more wary of himself after their late-night discussion, when Qubit grabbed Carlisle by his bathrobe and shook him as though answers could be rattled out of his emaciated frame with enough force; Carlisle could tell he was afraid of it happening again, and of what would change between them if it did. Qubit feared himself after that, was more cautious of his temper simmering beneath his skin.
And despite that, Carlisle still stands by what he said: that Qubit is ultimately good. It's an unquantifiable feeling, but one his heart, long-dead as it may be, knows to be genuine. Explaining it is the tricky part.]
There are many elements that constitute good. It is subjective, be it in the eyes of the living, the divine, or otherwise. [Like himself.] I refuse to believe you to be an irredeemable thing, incapable of doing better. You want to do better, and even said so, and...
[His eyes fall, his brow knitting as he stumbles into a realization himself.]
... And so do I. I would be a hypocrite were I to change what I believe to be good for the sake of one man. And yet, I have done that to myself for as long as I've lived. Nothing I did was ever good enough. How could it be when I have let so many down? When I have been a disappointment time and time again, both in life and death?
[He steels himself with a breath, his hands releasing one another. How can he stay honest to his convictions if he believes Qubit to ultimately be good, but himself not to be?
It's simple, really: Carlisle has to admit that he himself is a more decent person than he'd like to believe. He has to sincerely trust what Qubit has said about him, and give himself an honest chance, too. His gaze makes its way back to Qubit, the sincerity nearly as bright as the light in his eyes as he hones in on Qubit's own words.]
Perhaps you will let me down again, but know this: I will not reject you, Mister Qubit. I will not abandon you, nor despise you, nor- nor feel contempt for you. I have lived with that fear. It is pure, unadulterated torment, the kind that can destroy even the strongest individuals.
[His fingers curl upon themselves, clawing his palms as he fights his anxious habits.]
I care far too much for you to allow you to suffer like that.