Guess who has his blobby back? Guess who is wearing it literally every minute until he figures out how to keep it safe this time??? It's this nerd, who lets himself into Jedao's cabin via the permissions and pokes his small once-again-feline-shaped nose into the rooms looking for the cabin's occupants.
"Je.... Um." Experiment time, uh oh, oh god. He was okay with it before though so. So!! "Uh... d.... Dad?"
His ears prick forward and he brightens up at that response, trotting over and climbing carefully up Jedao's clothes toward his shoulder, at least until/unless he's picked up.
"I was wondering if I could ask you about some things... and tell you. Things."
"When John and Arthur disappeared, right after I found out who I was, and Arthur came back for that little bit, I... I don't... know if Hunter told you already maybe, but I did something... terrible. Wrong."
Even as he says that, he snuggles in against Jedao's sweater, nesting in his arms. Screw dignity, he missed hugs.
"Well... you're my dad, so you get to know." Declarative statement, executive order issued. "Anything I don't say is a secret."
He can imagine a few contexts where privacy might be useful, but he trusts Hunter not to share if Edwin asks him not to. "I... I tortured Dennis Collins."
He had reasons, logic, but it amounted to nothing, so does the logic even matter? Not really.
"I called Hunter after he died, and we talked and-- anyway, the important part for this, for this now, is that I did that. Because Collins took my body when I wasn't home and threw it over the side. Please don't punish him though, please."
"Okay," Jedao says quietly, and it's - pensive. Not soft, not harsh. Just thoughtful and somber. He isn't smiling anymore, but he still keeps petting Edwin.
"Can you tell me why you don't want me to do that?"
"Because what I did was worse." It's simple enough in his mind. "It was... much worse. He didn't even hurt me, not really. I wasn't in the body. He could have grabbed my crown and thrown that over instead. The Admiral brought the body back but I had to promise to talk to a warden about... why I didn't want to ask a warden to get it for me. ...I think that's what I'm supposed to talk about. There was a lot."
"It is a lot," Jedao agrees. He sits in silence for another moment, trying to figure out what he can say that's honest, kind, fair. In, perhaps revealingly, that order.
"I still love you. I'm really...sad. I wish neither of you had done those things. But you're right that torture is worse. What parts of the a lot do you want to talk about? Or think are important?"
He nuzzles the base of Jedao's throat when he says I still love you, startled to realize that even though the affirmation is nice, he didn't... need it. It settles the anxiety bubbling in the back of Edwin's mind to hear it, but he already knew Jedao would, believed he would.
"I... I thought hurting someone the way the King would might make me remember, might give me memories that would help the barge get them back. Arthur and John. M-mostly John." Now that he's started being honest, he feels the need to keep being honest. It's strangely freeing. "But it didn't. It just felt... awful. And I apologized but then I called him a hypocrite when he said we weren't even so I should probably try again. Later."
He nestles against Jedao, adding an extra two legs so he can both loaf in Jedao's lap and rest his head against his father's chest. "And the Admiral said... he said I maybe didn't want to ask a warden to get the body back because I wanted him to say no, because I thought I hadn't been... punished enough."
"Which part?" The memories, the apology, the Admiral saying yes or no. Probably all of them should be talked about, but he doesn't know where to start.
He doesn't answer right away, considering it first. Considering the way he felt ill with each twist of the knife, the way he felt like he couldn't touch his blobby afterward because he would take the awfulness into it and it might stick somehow.
"Because it felt.... because it was.... bad. His pain felt... bad. It felt bad to hurt someone who could think and feel and reason and... dream and love. To see him suffer and know it was because of me."
A little shiver ripples through him, quite literally.
He stretches out his extra limbs to hug Jedao back.
"Maybe it's... because of what I was. Or... wasn't. It's... hard to ignore how... beautiful humanity is, how beautiful it is to... be and create and... know yourself, when you couldn't before. Or don't remember ever trying."
"No," Jedao says gently, yet firmly. "I'm arrogant because I think I'm smarter than everybody. But in my defense, I am smarter than everybody."
He says it dryly; in a different, less fraught conversation he would be laughing at himself. He knows he isn't always smarter than everybody. But...he still feels it sometimes.
He swallows, and the little bit of levity slips away.
"When you really don't like yourself...it's a pain that coils and gnaws and fucks you up. You can be good in spite of it, but I don't think it makes anybody better. I don't want you to feel that way."
"I think I do. I-I mean, not all the time. Not... when I did those things. Some other times. But I... like... being. I like being, the way I am." His tone is quietly self-conscious. "It's different than when I got here."
"I'm glad that you like who you are, and who you're becoming. It's better."
As he knows from experience.
"That's not the most important reason why I don't want you to torture anyone again. But it's one of the reasons. I like you being the way you are, too."
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"Je.... Um." Experiment time, uh oh, oh god. He was okay with it before though so. So!! "Uh... d.... Dad?"
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"Hi, Sunshine."
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"I was wondering if I could ask you about some things... and tell you. Things."
There is Guilt in the word things.
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"You can always tell me anything," Jedao promises, gently but a little more soberly, still smiling softly. "What's on your mind, sweetheart?"
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Even as he says that, he snuggles in against Jedao's sweater, nesting in his arms. Screw dignity, he missed hugs.
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"Hunter hasn't told me anything. I don't think he would share something - so fraught, behind your back. I'd be a bit mad at him, if he did."
Not, like, a huge amount. But definitely a bit.
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He can imagine a few contexts where privacy might be useful, but he trusts Hunter not to share if Edwin asks him not to. "I... I tortured Dennis Collins."
He had reasons, logic, but it amounted to nothing, so does the logic even matter? Not really.
"I called Hunter after he died, and we talked and-- anyway, the important part for this, for this now, is that I did that. Because Collins took my body when I wasn't home and threw it over the side. Please don't punish him though, please."
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"Can you tell me why you don't want me to do that?"
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"I still love you. I'm really...sad. I wish neither of you had done those things. But you're right that torture is worse. What parts of the a lot do you want to talk about? Or think are important?"
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"I... I thought hurting someone the way the King would might make me remember, might give me memories that would help the barge get them back. Arthur and John. M-mostly John." Now that he's started being honest, he feels the need to keep being honest. It's strangely freeing. "But it didn't. It just felt... awful. And I apologized but then I called him a hypocrite when he said we weren't even so I should probably try again. Later."
He nestles against Jedao, adding an extra two legs so he can both loaf in Jedao's lap and rest his head against his father's chest. "And the Admiral said... he said I maybe didn't want to ask a warden to get the body back because I wanted him to say no, because I thought I hadn't been... punished enough."
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"What if it had worked?"
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Quietly. It's not a trick question. He wants to know.
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"...Yes."
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A little shiver ripples through him, quite literally.
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He hugs Edwin a little tighter.
"Some people take a lot longer to figure that part out."
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"Maybe it's... because of what I was. Or... wasn't. It's... hard to ignore how... beautiful humanity is, how beautiful it is to... be and create and... know yourself, when you couldn't before. Or don't remember ever trying."
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He says it dryly; in a different, less fraught conversation he would be laughing at himself. He knows he isn't always smarter than everybody. But...he still feels it sometimes.
He swallows, and the little bit of levity slips away.
"When you really don't like yourself...it's a pain that coils and gnaws and fucks you up. You can be good in spite of it, but I don't think it makes anybody better. I don't want you to feel that way."
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As he knows from experience.
"That's not the most important reason why I don't want you to torture anyone again. But it's one of the reasons. I like you being the way you are, too."
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