"On one level you're right," Burnie started. He didn't just start, he continued on without hesitation, not wanting the bird to take back control of the conversation even with just a little quip. There was an energy to him now, a slowly flickering flame as if someone had started a long-dormant forge. "There are a lot of ways to know you're alive, Benedict," see, a name was useful. That sentence wouldn't have been the same without a name. Why did none of these beings understand that? "And a lot of ways to stay fighting. Sometimes I drive them off, the ones that'd destroy me or the people I love, loved. With her, maybe you're right. I'm driving the milestone further. Where you're wrong is this: because of that, we're actually getting somewhere."
There was a temptation to double back to the loved people bit. There was still Myrken even if it no longer loved him. On second thought, it wasn't worth lingering on, so he pressed forward instead. "I don't think talking would have gotten us this far. I don't think a thousand letters would have done it. We had to go through this. It took some gestures. We could have been more careful about it, maybe. We almost certainly would have been if you nosed in on it. We gained two years in two days; she's just afraid it'll all fade away like fairy gold now that she's not gesturing at me. It won't."
He seemed so sure of it, which had to be a little strange since he didn't seem entirely sure of what had happened. "You missed a lot, Benedict." Names, useful. "Not just over the last few days, just by not reading the letters. You have the most important part of it," and to his credit, he'd hold eye contact for this though there wasn't exactly pride beaming from his generally forgettable face. "Lots of punching up and getting stomped down. That's the bad experiences. Lots of magic. The good experiences aren't much better in retrospect. My lady, for years, had a connection with my mind. She died while we were connected. She went mad before that. It wasn't perfect beforehand, not as my own mind goes. So, I'm vulnerable to all this and it affects me differently. That's one thought."
It wasn't an easy one. None of this was easy. "I think, no, I'm sure, that if that's the case, I'll be able to build up some tolerance to it. If I just get used to her particular sort of glamourie, I'll build up resistance to these side effects, maybe even some sort of resonance with what she does in general. Instead of ending up out of my gourd, it might be better, more vivid, more collaborative?" He shook his head quickly, trying not to think too far down that road. What was important was that he built up some sort of resistance, that she could be herself around him without either of them having a problem.
"That's only half of it though. Look, when things was worst for me, absolutely worst, I was without restraint. Ever since I recovered from that and she died, I've been holding back. I've tried to be careful so I didn't hurt anyone, so that if I wasn't sane, at least I'd be constrained." It was meant to be brave, or at least necessary, but it felt cowardly. Still, he didn't break eye contact. Either it had been more shameful with her for some reason or he had truly needed that shoulder to ground his mind. "Before, I'd hurt a lot of people even if I meant well. Especially. There was no line, no limit. I was broken in an abnormal way, not just in the normal human way. Because of my reaction to what she did, everything I was trying to hold in came bursting out. Whatever I was then, a few years ago, that's not who I am now. I didn't know for sure until then. Now I do, so I can start to try to figure things out. That's not all of it, but it's a big part. I don't think she understands it though." As nice as it would have been to hold that against her, a last sentence stumbled from behind, catching up just before the raven might speak again. "I'm still figuring it out."