[ ...It's not hard to guess who might be poised to be the next Knave. Even if he didn't have those eyes and ears in other places, Lyney's unfaltering loyalty--his pride, his fierce protectiveness for what rests within those impenetrable circles--would speak volumes. Lyney hasn't told him yet, hasn't confirmed anything. But he has a hunch. And if that hunch is correct--
--Nothing good awaits him at the end of these six months.
For a long moment, he says nothing.
'Why' indeed? Assuming he's right, he can't talk Arlecchino out of setting Lyney up to be the next Knave. No, he doesn't even want to do that: matters of the Fatui are far out of his hands, and ultimately it's up to Lyney to make that choice, to say 'no' where that's simply not an answer. Loath as he is to think about it, that fight is Lyney's alone. Why, then? To petition for Lyney's mercy? He supposes that's ultimately it, ridiculous as it sounds even in his own mind: but now that he's seen Lyney's truly well, seen the color of his good nature against the quiet shades of who he is right now, he doesn't feel that he can sit idly by. Perhaps he's too used to having the authority to make recommendations where they can be penned in. Perhaps he's just lost sight of what truly can and can't be as he overidentifies with the boy. There was a time he wished someone might save him: perhaps he answers his former self through Lyney.
Perhaps he can't let this happiness slip away without reaching for it, no matter how much empty air his fingers are bound to meet.
How can he answer this? He's keeping Lyney waiting. ]
I don't have the leverage I did last time, so consider this a simpler request than it was back then. [ He barely recognizes his own voice; soft, pouring forward without the force of rational thought to propel it along. ] ...Lyney. Next in line to be the Knave. I'd like to meet with your Father. Once and never again, if that's the way it has to be.
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--Nothing good awaits him at the end of these six months.
For a long moment, he says nothing.
'Why' indeed? Assuming he's right, he can't talk Arlecchino out of setting Lyney up to be the next Knave. No, he doesn't even want to do that: matters of the Fatui are far out of his hands, and ultimately it's up to Lyney to make that choice, to say 'no' where that's simply not an answer. Loath as he is to think about it, that fight is Lyney's alone. Why, then? To petition for Lyney's mercy? He supposes that's ultimately it, ridiculous as it sounds even in his own mind: but now that he's seen Lyney's truly well, seen the color of his good nature against the quiet shades of who he is right now, he doesn't feel that he can sit idly by. Perhaps he's too used to having the authority to make recommendations where they can be penned in. Perhaps he's just lost sight of what truly can and can't be as he overidentifies with the boy. There was a time he wished someone might save him: perhaps he answers his former self through Lyney.
Perhaps he can't let this happiness slip away without reaching for it, no matter how much empty air his fingers are bound to meet.
How can he answer this? He's keeping Lyney waiting. ]
I don't have the leverage I did last time, so consider this a simpler request than it was back then. [ He barely recognizes his own voice; soft, pouring forward without the force of rational thought to propel it along. ] ...Lyney. Next in line to be the Knave. I'd like to meet with your Father. Once and never again, if that's the way it has to be.