I hope you know that if you're chosen for the position, I'm going to call you Moon Ambassador Nate.
[Aka he couldn't think of anything else to start this conversation with but he needs to talk to someone that isn't going to quickly drive him insane so hi, Nate.]
[ He jokes, but not really. It's the follow-up that legitimately concerns him, because Lance voluntarily gives up personal information like that about as often as Nate does, which is to say: almost never. ]
How am I going to be able to tell what's a park and what isn't with all these plants?
[He's joking, following immediately with--]
I'm not that far. I'll meet you there soon.
[He's out in the city, so it doesn't require much of a change in course to head toward the park near where Nate lives; overgrown as it may be, he knew where that park was already and so it isn't too difficult to find it.
He physically looks a little better than last time Nate saw him, since he'd gotten some impromptu rest, but Nate knows him well enough that it's probably easy to tell he's not doing that great otherwise. His arms are crossed protectively over his chest, he keeps glancing over his shoulder at any hint of a noise, and his gaze keeps flickering between present and clearly somewhere else.]
[ Lance can flatter himself all he likes, but he looks like he got hit by a bus. It's not physical evidence sort of thing, it's in the way he carries himself: tired, a weird tension to his shoulders, gaze critical and bright but exhausted at the edges. He's not carrying an amount of baggage under his eyes comparable to a trip to Europe, but it's still there.
It's a look, that's for sure, and one that Nate reacts to with a faint, concerned grimace. ]
[He does relax just a fraction when he sees Nate, though it doesn't really make a dent overall; he tries to offer a weak smile in greeting, but the expression never makes it past just a small pull at the corner of his mouth.
The look of concern gets more of a reaction, though, a hint of a dismayed expression settling in more easily than the attempt at a smile, especially at the comment.]
I'm not going to fall down.
[So no need, and he's certainly not protesting because he's too agitated to even think of sitting still.
And then, without giving any time for Nate to argue--]
Sorry to um, bother you right after you got back.
[It isn't quite deflecting off the original topic, which is what he would normally do, but still stalling even if it's also a genuine sentiment.]
...seriously? You're apologizing for bothering me?
[ Not only does that seem legitimately impossible - Lance loves bothering Nate, that's an established fact - but coming to a close friend on a crappy day isn't an imposition. It's expected. That's how this kind of reciprocity works.
It's also a stalling tactic used by people who simultaneously want to share something, but also don't want to share something. The least he can do is make the situation and circumstances as comfortable for Lance as possible to achieve that kind of ease. ]
C'mon, man. [ Nate's tone gentles, but the look he gives him brooks no argument. ] You know me better than that.
I know, it's not... It's not really that I think you're going to have a problem with it, but you still have a lot to deal with already.
[So as much as he knows Nate doesn't mind, Lance still feels guilty about adding to it. But he's trying to take what Ian and many others have said to him, about how listening to and helping with problems is what friends do, and it's not something he should be so hesitant to be on the receiving side of.
But that's all easier said--or in this case thought--than done; he shifts on his feet and glances around them again, trying to figure out what he actually wants to say and what words he wants to use, struggling to resist the natural urge to stall further by asking Nate how he's doing with things, and if there's anything he can do to help. He knows the latter would be rightly called out immediately.
It isn't helpful that Lance is self-aware enough to know that he needs to talk to someone, but also so far past that point that he feel completely disconnected from it. It's almost like it's trying to talk for someone else, but even then his empathy usually kicks in and makes it simple enough to feel something for them. Right now everything is just so muted that it's difficult to find the incentive to describe it, but after another several seconds of trying to remind himself that this is important he finally manages to start.]
I'm kind of... I'm having a hard time dealing with everything, but it's not about the Aerie, exactly.
[Which just kind of adds to the uncertainty he feels about bringing any of this up; almost everyone is dealing with what they've all just gone through, but most of that's hardly even registering for him. Maybe it will later, especially some specific events, but it's certainly not his main cause of stress at the moment.]
[ They all have a lot to deal with, but it doesn't mean he can't carry a little bit of Lance's not-insubstantial weight. They've always been a little too similar in that regard, bouncing around subjects with ease, ignoring the ones that feel difficult in favor of concentrating on somebody else's problems. There's a satisfaction in helping another person, even when you can't help yourself.
Nate has his suspicions. They've known each other for over two years, he's extremely aware of the way Lance makes diversions look effortless, and he sure as Hell isn't alone in the bone-deep exhaustion that can't entirely be attributed to that other world.
I'm king of having a hard time dealing with everything, but it's not about the Aerie.
The confirmation is nice, even if the implications aren't. Nate looks at him for a long moment, trying to parse out an emotion that he's reading as doubt even if he isn't sure that's accurate.
Swing and a- ]
It's all the network shit, right? The...repeated attempts at doing something only to get slapped in the face? Or told you're wrong? Or told you should do something differently? That you're overreacting?
[It isn't unexpected that Nate might take some guesses in order to try to prompt conversation along, but also show that he understands, and that's something Lance appreciates. As much as Lance is closed off about so many things, and he doesn't want to add to others' worries, there's something deeply reassuring about being reminded that the people he cares about care in return.
So, after the questions, his gaze flickers toward Nate briefly before turning toward a rabbit that has taken shelter under a bench, chewing on something and twitching its little rabbit nose. Watching it is a nice distraction as Lance answers.]
That's part of it, yeah.
[And Nate's very right to assume it bothers him, because it very much does. But that's less because what it is, and more because of how it makes him feel, and what feeling that way reminds him of.
But how to say that, and how to start saying it, is so difficult. There's silence several seconds as he goes over a few possibilities, plays out different scenarios in his head, and tries to gather the will to talk about something he never talks about; at the moment, it isn't so much his usual emotional response stopping him, but just sheer exhaustion.
Still, finally, he begins.]
You know, um, I... I nearly died, when I was six. I said the wrong thing at the wrong time, which wasn't difficult to do, and my foster father lost it; it's not like that was weird--it happened basically every day--but this time it was just... Worse.
[He doesn't care to go into further explanation about how, both because he doesn't want to and it isn't necessary. Nate knows him well enough to get the idea when he understates things, and that particular incident isn't actually the point anyway; it's that it was such a constantly dangerous, terrifying situation, and what it's like to live that way.
So he's quiet again for another few moments, still not looking at Nate, before finally putting that into words as well.]
After all this time I thought I was past having to be so constantly careful about everything I did and said, but then the conspiracy happened at home, and then I ended up in Hadriel, and now I'm here.
[And so although it's certainly not the same situation, for years now there's still been that sense of living constantly in fear. That would be bad enough on its own, but with everything else that happened, it just feels like he's gone full circle and that's such an innately horrifying thought he can't really allow himself to consider it for too long.]
[ Working off of the little context he knows, it stands to reason he would think the negative associations were strictly related to the way new ideas get treated on the network, and the very particular means by which Lance has been targeted. Nate isn't so stupid as to think there isn't more going on; he knows his friend, knows he probably doesn't tell him half the shit that's actually hitting him hard, but part of maintaining a good friendship with Lance is patience. He'll talk when he's ready.
And apparently, he is.
What hits Nate like a truck is information he might have gleaned once if he pried, but he was too smart then to push deeper knowing Lance's history in the system. It makes him angry. That thick, viscous, irrational anger of temporal impotence in that it's something he can't fix or remedy because it happened decades ago. Anger that has no direction and settles in the clenching of his jaw because there's nothing to be done except absorb it and immediately draw conclusions that Lance doesn't have to point out for him. He already knows. ]
It is not you. [ He says tersely, firmly, insistent. ] This place is just- these people-
[ Nate takes a sharp breath, swallows it down. ]
...It's different from Hadriel. I know you know that already, but it- it's like people seek out conflict for the sake of conflict, or want things to go exactly their way, I mean- at least when people disagreed in Hadriel, they either wouldn't say anything or if they did, we'd all just agree to disagree. It's different here, it's like trying to fight gravity. [ A thin grimace crosses his face. ] Or have a rational conversation with Curufin.
[Lance can feel more than see the anger, since he still isn't looking at Nate, and although usually anger makes him nervous in this case it's the opposite. It's reassuring, in a way, because it means Nate cares that much; although he'd never doubted Nate would care or worried that he'd judge him for this, especially since he'd known Nate had some idea about this already, there was always a chance that Lance would've predicted wrong. Especially recently.
And it probably shouldn't be a surprise that Nate makes the mental leap to immediately pick out that general concern, even though it was unsaid. Normally Lance is good at understanding people, at deciphering their motives, at being able to be a step ahead; it's a skill he learned in the same situation he'd just talked about, because it had been incredibly vital. Even if he'd never been able to truly 'win', because that was never possible to begin with, he'd been able to sometimes avoid making things worse. After he'd gotten out of that environment, he'd only become better and better at controlling--or at least being aware of--the facets of a situation in a way that would let him try to make it turn out for the best.
But here, that's all fallen apart. Even in Hadriel he'd found his footing among those who'd been brought there; the first few months had been very difficult and things had still be touch and go for awhile with the whole Guard mess, but after that--just as Nate said--the gods and the Null had been the main issue, not the people. And while he hadn't been able to actually get out of the situation of people there and under the gods' control, at least not until they'd accomplished their goal, he'd still understood what he had to do to get through it.
Here, though, he can't figure that out. So many people make choices that seem to make no sense, or change their stances on a whim, or twist conversations and leap to conclusions. He knows Nate's probably correct in that they're just trying to find conflict or are absolutely obsessed with looking like they're in the 'right', but even that should be consistent and have a pattern. This, so often, doesn't. It feels sometimes like he's talking to illusions of people, instead of actual individuals with thoughts and feelings and experiences, because he can't understand what those thoughts or feelings or experiences might be.
It's confusing and disorienting, and would be even if he didn't have the history he has. So Nate's assurance that it's not just him, that he isn't doing something wrong, that Nate doesn't understand either... It helps. It doesn't help the situation, but it helps Lance feel like maybe it really is just something external, some weird reality that they have to accept. That is isn't necessarily that maybe everyone else is behaving perfectly reasonably, and it's Lance who really is the problem.
So after a few seconds of silence he nods, shifting on his feet a little and studying the ground, readjusting how his arms are crossed before finally looking back up at Nate.]
Maybe they're all just actually secretly Curufin.
[That, at least, would make sense. Curufin really would be right at home with these people.
But awful attempt at a joke aside, he shifts his attention back to the ground and give a long, quiet exhale to help calm the nerves he knows are there but can't quite feel.]
It's just... Exhausting. Even when people are, you know, really horrible, I can usually at least see the patterns; here, it's... It's like there's no continuity, almost. They change their minds or their motives so fast, come to these strange conclusions, and talk about things that make no sense as if they're completely normal and reasonable.
[And not only is that disconcerting because he should be able to see through and make sense of all of it, but because it terrifies that deep part of him that's always afraid of making one wrong move in a situation where the consequences for doing so could be incredibly dire.]
[ The reassuring constant in Hadriel was exactly as Lance says: the reliability of Curufin being wishy-washy about something, of Law thinking himself above the constraints of their world, of Caedra believing everyone else was insignificant because of their humanity. Of Lance's perception matching reality, of Nate's tendency to get into trouble. Of Taako Taaco's flirting. The threads ran through through everyone with a consistency that was reassuring, because at least some things were predictable when their surroundings were not. It gave them commonality. Equal ground.
Here, it feels like a lot of lip service being paid toward "the greater good," only no one is actually collaborating on a level that permits free discussion - a very loud, very small minority shouting everybody else down. Nate would be lying if he said he hasn't been repeatedly disheartened by people's best attempts at encouraging open dialogue being completely derailed by the kind of crap that went down in his post about the moon.
It was the first time it happened to him, but it's not the first time it's happened on the network. He's beginning to lose track of how often someone will try to have a public conversation with all viewpoints right before an aggressive peanut gallery starts pelting tomatoes. ]
...look, it's-
[ He starts, fiddling with his ring finger and trying to find the words. ]
It's really, really tempting to just think that- maybe the problem is you, you know? But it's not. It's a bunch of limelight-loving assholes who shift their position to make themselves look good even when it contradicts something they've said before. It's not sinister, it's self-serving. Whether their ideas pan out correctly or not, it sure as Hell doesn't excuse their behavior. I've seen playground bullies with more self-awareness. [ Nate shifts, resting a hand on Lance's shoulder. ] That's all they are, Lance.
[ Telling him not to get suckered into it is easier said than done, but Nate knows the toll of fielding that kind of abuse, and he knows himself. Sooner or later you snap. Whether it ends in a black eye or a bruised ego, it happens either which way. ]
[He looks up again when Nate starts talking, his difficulty finding the right thing to say apparent and it only makes it mean more that he's trying. Even as muted as everything feels for Lance right now, how grateful he is to know Nate still makes it through the numbness and the haze.
And he listens, and tries to believe in what Nate's telling him. It helps that it's something he's recognized himself, when he's having one of his better days, and is able to more confidently assess the situation the way he would've at home. But on bad days, which have become more of the norm, it's so much more difficult to not begin to believe that maybe he's the common denominator in all of this.
And there's another reason that's so tempting, not just because it's an old habit, and he hesitates a few moments as he tries to decide how honest to be. Nate's hand on his shoulder is reassuring, though, and encouraging, and finally he admits--]
If it's me, then there's something I can do about it.
[But if it's not, then the situation is totally out of his control. It just becomes a matter of waiting for the worst to happen, and that's what he hates; that's what reminds him of the worst time in his life, and makes him feel like he's stuck in this cycle he only thought he'd escaped.
But at the same time, when he's able to see the situation more clearly, knowing that it isn't his fault is also freeing in a way. He isn't doing anything wrong. There might be challenges and obstacles that he'll have to overcome in the form of these awful people and what they do, but it's not as though anything in his life has ever been easy. He can deal with challenges, especially if he's able to take a step back and recognize them for what they truly are.
And on that subject--]
But you're right. You're right, I just... I wanted to believe better of them.
[He'd wanted to hold onto his initial opinion of this place, that it's so much easier than Hadriel, in part because of the people. They had seemed, at first, to be so willing to care. But he can see that that only lasts as long as they think people will fall into line, and that's just how it is.]
![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
@lance.sweets
[Aka he couldn't think of anything else to start this conversation with but he needs to talk to someone that isn't going to quickly drive him insane so hi, Nate.]
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How are you doing?
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[Which is not normally an answer he'd give if he hadn't already decided to commit, even if there's a brief delay before he actually does so.]
Actually I'm kind of having a bad day.
[Not quite as bad as he used to have in Hadriel, but it's rapidly getting there.]
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[ He jokes, but not really. It's the follow-up that legitimately concerns him, because Lance voluntarily gives up personal information like that about as often as Nate does, which is to say: almost never. ]
meet me somewhere?
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Sure, though I don't really know where. Any ideas?
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there's a park near my place.
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[He's joking, following immediately with--]
I'm not that far. I'll meet you there soon.
[He's out in the city, so it doesn't require much of a change in course to head toward the park near where Nate lives; overgrown as it may be, he knew where that park was already and so it isn't too difficult to find it.
He physically looks a little better than last time Nate saw him, since he'd gotten some impromptu rest, but Nate knows him well enough that it's probably easy to tell he's not doing that great otherwise. His arms are crossed protectively over his chest, he keeps glancing over his shoulder at any hint of a noise, and his gaze keeps flickering between present and clearly somewhere else.]
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[ Lance can flatter himself all he likes, but he looks like he got hit by a bus. It's not physical evidence sort of thing, it's in the way he carries himself: tired, a weird tension to his shoulders, gaze critical and bright but exhausted at the edges. He's not carrying an amount of baggage under his eyes comparable to a trip to Europe, but it's still there.
It's a look, that's for sure, and one that Nate reacts to with a faint, concerned grimace. ]
...Jesus, man. Sit down.
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The look of concern gets more of a reaction, though, a hint of a dismayed expression settling in more easily than the attempt at a smile, especially at the comment.]
I'm not going to fall down.
[So no need, and he's certainly not protesting because he's too agitated to even think of sitting still.
And then, without giving any time for Nate to argue--]
Sorry to um, bother you right after you got back.
[It isn't quite deflecting off the original topic, which is what he would normally do, but still stalling even if it's also a genuine sentiment.]
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[ Not only does that seem legitimately impossible - Lance loves bothering Nate, that's an established fact - but coming to a close friend on a crappy day isn't an imposition. It's expected. That's how this kind of reciprocity works.
It's also a stalling tactic used by people who simultaneously want to share something, but also don't want to share something. The least he can do is make the situation and circumstances as comfortable for Lance as possible to achieve that kind of ease. ]
C'mon, man. [ Nate's tone gentles, but the look he gives him brooks no argument. ] You know me better than that.
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[So as much as he knows Nate doesn't mind, Lance still feels guilty about adding to it. But he's trying to take what Ian and many others have said to him, about how listening to and helping with problems is what friends do, and it's not something he should be so hesitant to be on the receiving side of.
But that's all easier said--or in this case thought--than done; he shifts on his feet and glances around them again, trying to figure out what he actually wants to say and what words he wants to use, struggling to resist the natural urge to stall further by asking Nate how he's doing with things, and if there's anything he can do to help. He knows the latter would be rightly called out immediately.
It isn't helpful that Lance is self-aware enough to know that he needs to talk to someone, but also so far past that point that he feel completely disconnected from it. It's almost like it's trying to talk for someone else, but even then his empathy usually kicks in and makes it simple enough to feel something for them. Right now everything is just so muted that it's difficult to find the incentive to describe it, but after another several seconds of trying to remind himself that this is important he finally manages to start.]
I'm kind of... I'm having a hard time dealing with everything, but it's not about the Aerie, exactly.
[Which just kind of adds to the uncertainty he feels about bringing any of this up; almost everyone is dealing with what they've all just gone through, but most of that's hardly even registering for him. Maybe it will later, especially some specific events, but it's certainly not his main cause of stress at the moment.]
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Nate has his suspicions. They've known each other for over two years, he's extremely aware of the way Lance makes diversions look effortless, and he sure as Hell isn't alone in the bone-deep exhaustion that can't entirely be attributed to that other world.
I'm king of having a hard time dealing with everything, but it's not about the Aerie.
The confirmation is nice, even if the implications aren't. Nate looks at him for a long moment, trying to parse out an emotion that he's reading as doubt even if he isn't sure that's accurate.
Swing and a- ]
It's all the network shit, right? The...repeated attempts at doing something only to get slapped in the face? Or told you're wrong? Or told you should do something differently? That you're overreacting?
cw from here on for discussion of child abuse
So, after the questions, his gaze flickers toward Nate briefly before turning toward a rabbit that has taken shelter under a bench, chewing on something and twitching its little rabbit nose. Watching it is a nice distraction as Lance answers.]
That's part of it, yeah.
[And Nate's very right to assume it bothers him, because it very much does. But that's less because what it is, and more because of how it makes him feel, and what feeling that way reminds him of.
But how to say that, and how to start saying it, is so difficult. There's silence several seconds as he goes over a few possibilities, plays out different scenarios in his head, and tries to gather the will to talk about something he never talks about; at the moment, it isn't so much his usual emotional response stopping him, but just sheer exhaustion.
Still, finally, he begins.]
You know, um, I... I nearly died, when I was six. I said the wrong thing at the wrong time, which wasn't difficult to do, and my foster father lost it; it's not like that was weird--it happened basically every day--but this time it was just... Worse.
[He doesn't care to go into further explanation about how, both because he doesn't want to and it isn't necessary. Nate knows him well enough to get the idea when he understates things, and that particular incident isn't actually the point anyway; it's that it was such a constantly dangerous, terrifying situation, and what it's like to live that way.
So he's quiet again for another few moments, still not looking at Nate, before finally putting that into words as well.]
After all this time I thought I was past having to be so constantly careful about everything I did and said, but then the conspiracy happened at home, and then I ended up in Hadriel, and now I'm here.
[And so although it's certainly not the same situation, for years now there's still been that sense of living constantly in fear. That would be bad enough on its own, but with everything else that happened, it just feels like he's gone full circle and that's such an innately horrifying thought he can't really allow himself to consider it for too long.]
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And apparently, he is.
What hits Nate like a truck is information he might have gleaned once if he pried, but he was too smart then to push deeper knowing Lance's history in the system. It makes him angry. That thick, viscous, irrational anger of temporal impotence in that it's something he can't fix or remedy because it happened decades ago. Anger that has no direction and settles in the clenching of his jaw because there's nothing to be done except absorb it and immediately draw conclusions that Lance doesn't have to point out for him. He already knows. ]
It is not you. [ He says tersely, firmly, insistent. ] This place is just- these people-
[ Nate takes a sharp breath, swallows it down. ]
...It's different from Hadriel. I know you know that already, but it- it's like people seek out conflict for the sake of conflict, or want things to go exactly their way, I mean- at least when people disagreed in Hadriel, they either wouldn't say anything or if they did, we'd all just agree to disagree. It's different here, it's like trying to fight gravity. [ A thin grimace crosses his face. ] Or have a rational conversation with Curufin.
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And it probably shouldn't be a surprise that Nate makes the mental leap to immediately pick out that general concern, even though it was unsaid. Normally Lance is good at understanding people, at deciphering their motives, at being able to be a step ahead; it's a skill he learned in the same situation he'd just talked about, because it had been incredibly vital. Even if he'd never been able to truly 'win', because that was never possible to begin with, he'd been able to sometimes avoid making things worse. After he'd gotten out of that environment, he'd only become better and better at controlling--or at least being aware of--the facets of a situation in a way that would let him try to make it turn out for the best.
But here, that's all fallen apart. Even in Hadriel he'd found his footing among those who'd been brought there; the first few months had been very difficult and things had still be touch and go for awhile with the whole Guard mess, but after that--just as Nate said--the gods and the Null had been the main issue, not the people. And while he hadn't been able to actually get out of the situation of people there and under the gods' control, at least not until they'd accomplished their goal, he'd still understood what he had to do to get through it.
Here, though, he can't figure that out. So many people make choices that seem to make no sense, or change their stances on a whim, or twist conversations and leap to conclusions. He knows Nate's probably correct in that they're just trying to find conflict or are absolutely obsessed with looking like they're in the 'right', but even that should be consistent and have a pattern. This, so often, doesn't. It feels sometimes like he's talking to illusions of people, instead of actual individuals with thoughts and feelings and experiences, because he can't understand what those thoughts or feelings or experiences might be.
It's confusing and disorienting, and would be even if he didn't have the history he has. So Nate's assurance that it's not just him, that he isn't doing something wrong, that Nate doesn't understand either... It helps. It doesn't help the situation, but it helps Lance feel like maybe it really is just something external, some weird reality that they have to accept. That is isn't necessarily that maybe everyone else is behaving perfectly reasonably, and it's Lance who really is the problem.
So after a few seconds of silence he nods, shifting on his feet a little and studying the ground, readjusting how his arms are crossed before finally looking back up at Nate.]
Maybe they're all just actually secretly Curufin.
[That, at least, would make sense. Curufin really would be right at home with these people.
But awful attempt at a joke aside, he shifts his attention back to the ground and give a long, quiet exhale to help calm the nerves he knows are there but can't quite feel.]
It's just... Exhausting. Even when people are, you know, really horrible, I can usually at least see the patterns; here, it's... It's like there's no continuity, almost. They change their minds or their motives so fast, come to these strange conclusions, and talk about things that make no sense as if they're completely normal and reasonable.
[And not only is that disconcerting because he should be able to see through and make sense of all of it, but because it terrifies that deep part of him that's always afraid of making one wrong move in a situation where the consequences for doing so could be incredibly dire.]
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Here, it feels like a lot of lip service being paid toward "the greater good," only no one is actually collaborating on a level that permits free discussion - a very loud, very small minority shouting everybody else down. Nate would be lying if he said he hasn't been repeatedly disheartened by people's best attempts at encouraging open dialogue being completely derailed by the kind of crap that went down in his post about the moon.
It was the first time it happened to him, but it's not the first time it's happened on the network. He's beginning to lose track of how often someone will try to have a public conversation with all viewpoints right before an aggressive peanut gallery starts pelting tomatoes. ]
...look, it's-
[ He starts, fiddling with his ring finger and trying to find the words. ]
It's really, really tempting to just think that- maybe the problem is you, you know? But it's not. It's a bunch of limelight-loving assholes who shift their position to make themselves look good even when it contradicts something they've said before. It's not sinister, it's self-serving. Whether their ideas pan out correctly or not, it sure as Hell doesn't excuse their behavior. I've seen playground bullies with more self-awareness. [ Nate shifts, resting a hand on Lance's shoulder. ] That's all they are, Lance.
[ Telling him not to get suckered into it is easier said than done, but Nate knows the toll of fielding that kind of abuse, and he knows himself. Sooner or later you snap. Whether it ends in a black eye or a bruised ego, it happens either which way. ]
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And he listens, and tries to believe in what Nate's telling him. It helps that it's something he's recognized himself, when he's having one of his better days, and is able to more confidently assess the situation the way he would've at home. But on bad days, which have become more of the norm, it's so much more difficult to not begin to believe that maybe he's the common denominator in all of this.
And there's another reason that's so tempting, not just because it's an old habit, and he hesitates a few moments as he tries to decide how honest to be. Nate's hand on his shoulder is reassuring, though, and encouraging, and finally he admits--]
If it's me, then there's something I can do about it.
[But if it's not, then the situation is totally out of his control. It just becomes a matter of waiting for the worst to happen, and that's what he hates; that's what reminds him of the worst time in his life, and makes him feel like he's stuck in this cycle he only thought he'd escaped.
But at the same time, when he's able to see the situation more clearly, knowing that it isn't his fault is also freeing in a way. He isn't doing anything wrong. There might be challenges and obstacles that he'll have to overcome in the form of these awful people and what they do, but it's not as though anything in his life has ever been easy. He can deal with challenges, especially if he's able to take a step back and recognize them for what they truly are.
And on that subject--]
But you're right. You're right, I just... I wanted to believe better of them.
[He'd wanted to hold onto his initial opinion of this place, that it's so much easier than Hadriel, in part because of the people. They had seemed, at first, to be so willing to care. But he can see that that only lasts as long as they think people will fall into line, and that's just how it is.]