[With his feet back on the ground, Carlisle is able to better return the embrace, though what pressure he applies is gentle at best. He's not sure when is appropriate to let go — frankly, he's not sure he wants to just yet, as though the moment he does, Qubit might vanish into the ether just like Kieran, just like Reynir, just like his uncles. He shouldn't let people be close; his affliction will taint them. It is the nature of the twice-cursed.
And yet, he wants that closeness. He craves that intimacy, hungers for attachments he spent a lifetime denying himself, especially after his affliction manifested. He insisted on it further when his uncles disappeared, leaving him the only Longinmouth left, a man who constantly felt the need to keep people at a distance for their own good.
But as a result, he was intolerably lonely. What was his solitude compared to the value of their lives? Who was he, as the heir of his bloodline, to sacrifice their livelihood for his own happiness? He'd made his choice, and while it may have damned him — and damned everyone and everything he ever cared about in the process — he couldn't have known what would happen. He wanted what was best for them. Those are not the decisions made by a monster, no matter how inclined he is to twist it that way.
Carlisle knows good and well the man in his arms would tell him as much. They are alike in so many aspects, this included. Maybe Qubit does realize how important this gesture is for him, Carlisle realizes. Maybe he knows just how much a simple embrace can express, can mean while saying nothing at all.
He gives Qubit one more squeeze before letting go, not wanting to overstay his welcome. His hands remain on Qubit's arms, keeping him in reach.]
I prefer to stay grounded. I'm grateful you're here to keep me that way.
[Whether in the throes of a Shift or in Carlisle's day-to-day struggles with his very existence, Qubit seems remarkably good at that.]
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And yet, he wants that closeness. He craves that intimacy, hungers for attachments he spent a lifetime denying himself, especially after his affliction manifested. He insisted on it further when his uncles disappeared, leaving him the only Longinmouth left, a man who constantly felt the need to keep people at a distance for their own good.
But as a result, he was intolerably lonely. What was his solitude compared to the value of their lives? Who was he, as the heir of his bloodline, to sacrifice their livelihood for his own happiness? He'd made his choice, and while it may have damned him — and damned everyone and everything he ever cared about in the process — he couldn't have known what would happen. He wanted what was best for them. Those are not the decisions made by a monster, no matter how inclined he is to twist it that way.
Carlisle knows good and well the man in his arms would tell him as much. They are alike in so many aspects, this included. Maybe Qubit does realize how important this gesture is for him, Carlisle realizes. Maybe he knows just how much a simple embrace can express, can mean while saying nothing at all.
He gives Qubit one more squeeze before letting go, not wanting to overstay his welcome. His hands remain on Qubit's arms, keeping him in reach.]
I prefer to stay grounded. I'm grateful you're here to keep me that way.
[Whether in the throes of a Shift or in Carlisle's day-to-day struggles with his very existence, Qubit seems remarkably good at that.]