[ He arches an eyebrow, some of his amusement fading. ]
Yes, and leaving that all behind me, only to still be thrown in with that lot some decades later -- that stirs a sense of joy I haven't felt in quite some time.
Charlie, I would hate for you to think you must censor yourself around me. Quite the contrary, in fact: I would prefer you speak freely. I shall do my best to avoid taking offense.
[ For a second, Myriad is silent, but then he leans forward, ducking down to get into Charlie's line of sight. ]
There's no need for that. Be yourself -- you're already far removed from the men and women I knew when I was a young man. What little I know of you so far would have been a breath of fresh air, had we met back home.
I could tell you a bedtime story, if you like. I was always quite fond of the one they told us about the dutiful young man who sacrificed every shred of happiness for the good of his household.
Perhaps the one about the Princess of Riddles, or the one about the two brothers and the phoenix? There's no shortage of stories one might tell to renounce deception and celebrate modesty. The irony is an endless source of amusement for me.
There was a point where I was happy to believe it all. The promise of status, a wife and family. I spent a long time lamenting over the fact that I must be broken. Defective.
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