[In the moment Qubit stares at him, Carlisle works on his own budding anxiety. Should he have said that? Should he have admitted how much he's come to care for not just their friendship, but for the genuine man before him, flaws and all? Carlisle scratches at the front of his coat, feeling for his talisman as though it would settle the sudden ache in his chest. It was obvious without words, he's sure, but he's worried whomever runs Anchor will hear, that the beings who created such a dreadful place will decide that the camaraderie they have found in one another ought to be replaced with hardship. As a twice-cursed, he brought misfortune to his family and his home — it would only be fitting for it to find him again in Anchor, manifested through the whims of what forces brought them there.
In contrast, Carlisle finds he's not particularly worried for how Qubit will take his words. He expects his friend will insist his flaws define him, much in the way Carlisle has allowed his own to define himself. There will always be some part of Qubit that will likely doubt what Carlisle says, they will revisit this argument time and again, until—
And then, Carlisle is surprised as Qubit, with hardly a word, suddenly embraces him, bringing his anxiety-riddled train of thought to a complete stop; he pulls in a breath and holds it, as though any sudden move would make Qubit reconsider. He hadn't expected such a reaction from Kieran when he healed his eyes — he expected it even less from Qubit, who has generally struck him as someone who prefers to keep others at a distance, both figuratively and literally. He's always been so guarded, hence this very discussion, and the last time Qubit grabbed him so suddenly, it was in a fit of frustrated rage. It was quite a different scenario.
And in a way, that was quite a different Qubit. The Qubit that night was one who didn't know himself any better than Carlisle knew him — less, even — and therefore could not be as open with him as either of them wanted. What secrets he had were hidden from them both, frustratingly so. This Qubit before him, now embracing him, had the full capacity to do otherwise, and still chose to bare himself before Carlisle in a way the clergyman suspects he's done for few others.
Carlisle's own vulnerabilities came to light in a less measured way than Qubit's, burst out in a fit of anger or seeped into his mannerisms as he fought his own nerves, his worst impulses, and his Revenant nature all at once. And yet, the technomancer continued to offer his help, despite everything. Perhaps Qubit did once see him as a project to focus on, a stepping stone on the path to personal, private redemption, but...
He also saw Carlisle as a person deserving of life — even an unlife. Qubit saw him as worthy of commiseration, camaraderie, of standing by no matter the circumstances. He's forgiven Carlisle for his transgressions, even if the clergyman himself didn't feel deserving of it. It was only fair that he do the same — and in that moment where Qubit draws him close with an earnest and sincere gesture of gratitude, Carlisle cannot imagine ever doing otherwise.
Especially not to someone he has come to care for so much, enough so that the mere thought of their friendship changing once Qubit remembered himself caused him incredible grief. His chest aches again with a sharp, lonely pang.
Qubit easily lifts Carlisle, only his toes remaining on the ground. He's frozen for a solid second or two, but reciprocation comes easier this time as he brings his arms around Qubit's back and revels in what feels like a victory. The feeling of being able to help people was what drove him to be a healer in the first place: he could make his family proud, help others while doing it... and perhaps, come to accept himself as well, flaws and all. Not all healing requires magic: some wounds simply need time and compassion to mend. While the two of them may never truly find the absolution they need within themselves, they can at least find some unconditional acceptance in each other.
Warmth stirs in Carlisle's chest, soothing the familiar ache until he can no longer feel it. Is that hope? Relief? An emotion he cannot yet name? Was it one he once knew, forgotten after his death? Or perhaps he's never known its name at all?
Whatever its identity, he welcomes it as a gift, his arms tightening around Qubit in an attempt to thank him for it. It's a bit awkward, Carlisle's inexperience with such affection showing, but he tries all the same. He can't help the soft chuckle that escapes him as he finally exhales.]
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In contrast, Carlisle finds he's not particularly worried for how Qubit will take his words. He expects his friend will insist his flaws define him, much in the way Carlisle has allowed his own to define himself. There will always be some part of Qubit that will likely doubt what Carlisle says, they will revisit this argument time and again, until—
And then, Carlisle is surprised as Qubit, with hardly a word, suddenly embraces him, bringing his anxiety-riddled train of thought to a complete stop; he pulls in a breath and holds it, as though any sudden move would make Qubit reconsider. He hadn't expected such a reaction from Kieran when he healed his eyes — he expected it even less from Qubit, who has generally struck him as someone who prefers to keep others at a distance, both figuratively and literally. He's always been so guarded, hence this very discussion, and the last time Qubit grabbed him so suddenly, it was in a fit of frustrated rage. It was quite a different scenario.
And in a way, that was quite a different Qubit. The Qubit that night was one who didn't know himself any better than Carlisle knew him — less, even — and therefore could not be as open with him as either of them wanted. What secrets he had were hidden from them both, frustratingly so. This Qubit before him, now embracing him, had the full capacity to do otherwise, and still chose to bare himself before Carlisle in a way the clergyman suspects he's done for few others.
Carlisle's own vulnerabilities came to light in a less measured way than Qubit's, burst out in a fit of anger or seeped into his mannerisms as he fought his own nerves, his worst impulses, and his Revenant nature all at once. And yet, the technomancer continued to offer his help, despite everything. Perhaps Qubit did once see him as a project to focus on, a stepping stone on the path to personal, private redemption, but...
He also saw Carlisle as a person deserving of life — even an unlife. Qubit saw him as worthy of commiseration, camaraderie, of standing by no matter the circumstances. He's forgiven Carlisle for his transgressions, even if the clergyman himself didn't feel deserving of it. It was only fair that he do the same — and in that moment where Qubit draws him close with an earnest and sincere gesture of gratitude, Carlisle cannot imagine ever doing otherwise.
Especially not to someone he has come to care for so much, enough so that the mere thought of their friendship changing once Qubit remembered himself caused him incredible grief. His chest aches again with a sharp, lonely pang.
Qubit easily lifts Carlisle, only his toes remaining on the ground. He's frozen for a solid second or two, but reciprocation comes easier this time as he brings his arms around Qubit's back and revels in what feels like a victory. The feeling of being able to help people was what drove him to be a healer in the first place: he could make his family proud, help others while doing it... and perhaps, come to accept himself as well, flaws and all. Not all healing requires magic: some wounds simply need time and compassion to mend. While the two of them may never truly find the absolution they need within themselves, they can at least find some unconditional acceptance in each other.
Warmth stirs in Carlisle's chest, soothing the familiar ache until he can no longer feel it. Is that hope? Relief? An emotion he cannot yet name? Was it one he once knew, forgotten after his death? Or perhaps he's never known its name at all?
Whatever its identity, he welcomes it as a gift, his arms tightening around Qubit in an attempt to thank him for it. It's a bit awkward, Carlisle's inexperience with such affection showing, but he tries all the same. He can't help the soft chuckle that escapes him as he finally exhales.]
I never took you as the hugging sort.