"Well, I don't want you thinking that sort of thing about yourself, either," Jedao murmurs. Then he leans forward and gives Edwin a very gentle play-bite, approximately where the scruff of his neck would be if he were actually a cat.
He presses his face against Jedao's shoulder, a weird little bubble of happy and sad making his chest feel squished tight.
"Can-- Can I stay here for..."
A while? He's not sure what he actually wants. It's like someone put him into a drink shaker and rattled it around until everything inside him came unstuck from its proper feeling-places. The last breach was too novel to be so unsettling, too infuriating in ways completely unrelated to what it means to be in the form he has.
"If- W-when I get a body, a real one, do you want it to look like he did?"
"It's to have more control over my body. So I can eat things and they won't taste wrong, and I can use my moth powers without it hurting...but also so I can change how I look, a little bit. I don't want to change a huge amount, but I want to get rid of some of Jedao One's scars, and maybe look a little younger, closer to how I feel like I should look in my head."
Jedao smiles at him gently.
"I like the way you look right now. It's the first way I ever got to hug you. But if you want to look human, or ten feet tall with tentacles, or anything else, then you'll still be my sunshine. I want you to look a way that feels comfortable for you."
Edwin stares, leaning back a little more so he can see more of Jedao's face.
"...Really? I-I mean, about your deal." It helps, makes things feel a little less tight in his chest, knowing even Jedao needs a deal to make his body the way he wants it to be.
The gentle headbutt against the base of Jedao's throat is muscle memory, a version of his breach self's habitual chest-faceplant silent demand for attention.
Until now, all his songs had been lullabies remembered from his own 'childhood' in the circus. Now, though, he thinks of something he'd found in the other Jedao's collection, something he thought of as a witchsong -
He has a decent singing voice, not trained at all, but he can follow the tune well enough, transposed down for his deeper voice, only going a little reedy on some of the high notes.
The color is all wrong, but Jedao still likes the song for him.
He closes his eyes and listens to the song underpinned by the movement of muscle and air, relaxing almost unintentionally into his body's default shape. After Jedao finishes the song, there's a few moments of silence before he speaks again.
"John and I aren't in the same world any more. The same timeline. His changed."
It's the first time he's actually said that out loud. He's been careful not to mention it around John, with everything his brother said about the lengths he'd go to in order to find Edwin. He doesn't want John to get frustrated or upset with the anxieties Edwin can't seem to vanquish.
"Oh, Sunshine," murmurs Jedao, who happens to know John feels the same way about Edwin sometimes, but will never ever tell.
"Fire and ash, you must feel so fucking scared and lonely, being the only one in your world to know. I imagine it'd feel like - losing the John you've loved here, or - losing a little bit of your claim on him, and not even being allowed to grieve. And he'd tell you in a heartbeat you haven't, that you're still the brother that's been through all this with him - but it's still hard. You're allowed to hate it. I'm sorry."
It's such a relief that Jedao understands. The tension that was left, the worry that he'd try to brush the anxiety of it away, leaves Edwin in a rush.
"I... I hate it," he says again, very quietly. "And I'm jealous of myself, and I'm jealous of Arthur and John being together, but not in the way that I used to be."
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"Can-- Can I stay here for..."
A while? He's not sure what he actually wants. It's like someone put him into a drink shaker and rattled it around until everything inside him came unstuck from its proper feeling-places. The last breach was too novel to be so unsettling, too infuriating in ways completely unrelated to what it means to be in the form he has.
"If- W-when I get a body, a real one, do you want it to look like he did?"
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Jedao pets Edwin's back pensively.
"Do you know what my deal is?"
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Jedao smiles at him gently.
"I like the way you look right now. It's the first way I ever got to hug you. But if you want to look human, or ten feet tall with tentacles, or anything else, then you'll still be my sunshine. I want you to look a way that feels comfortable for you."
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"...Really? I-I mean, about your deal." It helps, makes things feel a little less tight in his chest, knowing even Jedao needs a deal to make his body the way he wants it to be.
The gentle headbutt against the base of Jedao's throat is muscle memory, a version of his breach self's habitual chest-faceplant silent demand for attention.
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"Really. Hakkai made me promise my next one would be just for me, and that's what I want."
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Edwin turns his face to snuggle against his dad a little more.
"Hunter is going to let me have his deal. ...I forgot to tell John that. He doesn't need to use his for me now."
A pause as his confidence falters again. "Maybe."
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Jedao gives him some little scritches, like Zehun's cats used to like.
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"S... sing a song for me? P-please?"
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"Little blue dreamer go to sleep...we'll close our eyes, and call the deep..."
He has a decent singing voice, not trained at all, but he can follow the tune well enough, transposed down for his deeper voice, only going a little reedy on some of the high notes.
The color is all wrong, but Jedao still likes the song for him.
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"John and I aren't in the same world any more. The same timeline. His changed."
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It's the first time he's actually said that out loud. He's been careful not to mention it around John, with everything his brother said about the lengths he'd go to in order to find Edwin. He doesn't want John to get frustrated or upset with the anxieties Edwin can't seem to vanquish.
"I hate it. I'm-- I'm jealous of myself."
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"Fire and ash, you must feel so fucking scared and lonely, being the only one in your world to know. I imagine it'd feel like - losing the John you've loved here, or - losing a little bit of your claim on him, and not even being allowed to grieve. And he'd tell you in a heartbeat you haven't, that you're still the brother that's been through all this with him - but it's still hard. You're allowed to hate it. I'm sorry."
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"I... I hate it," he says again, very quietly. "And I'm jealous of myself, and I'm jealous of Arthur and John being together, but not in the way that I used to be."