When Erik half-announces, half-asks if he dislikes his power, Ned folds his arms across his chest tightly, answers at first only with a bare shrug of his shoulders, a vague and nonverbal yes.
No one's ever asked him that. Before he came here, he didn't discuss his powers with anyone. There was no one to discuss them with, no one who knew. Once he'd arrived, River already knew, from the first second she met him, how he felt and all the reasons why. He and Charles had discussed mutants in general, and the parameters of his power, but nothing more. Even Daneel, just last night, said he only saw Ned's mutation as a tiny part of the whole: a detail rather than the guiding principle.
But Erik appears to understand without needing to be told how fundamental Ned's mutation is to his identity. And he can see that Ned dislikes it - what a mild word that is! Hates it, more like. Fears it, certainly. If he can see that, Ned thinks, he'll see how, by hating and fearing his power, he hates and fears himself.
How does Erik have such a knack for finding the precise things to say to make him extremely uncomfortable? None of it is aggressive, or malicious - in fact, his intent is almost friendly, or some variation thereupon - but the end result is the same. Ned cannot answer him properly without telling him everything, and at the moment, he can't bear the thought of telling him anything.
"What I am and what I do are worth fearing," he murmurs, not looking at Erik. It is easier to explain in the abstract: not stories of his own life, but general principles, vague statements. Suggestive, but not quite as confessional. "It's complicated. You can build things. All I can do is... is pervert the natural order. And what's more important, I'm not like you or Charles. I can't control it, not even a little bit. For me there is no working on it and there's nothing to surpass - believe me, I've tried. For years. It works how it works and there are no exceptions, ever."
His voice has been gradually picking up speed, unravelling into a litany of words that he is barely aware of, because it's not enough. What he's said is not even a fraction of the reasons - all perfectly good - why he ought to hate his power. He is hardly even speaking to Erik, anymore, "You get to choose, and I don't. For me, a tiny slip isn't just a tiny slip, it's life and death. The best I can do is try to make as few mistakes as possible, and... and atone for the rest."
no subject
No one's ever asked him that. Before he came here, he didn't discuss his powers with anyone. There was no one to discuss them with, no one who knew. Once he'd arrived, River already knew, from the first second she met him, how he felt and all the reasons why. He and Charles had discussed mutants in general, and the parameters of his power, but nothing more. Even Daneel, just last night, said he only saw Ned's mutation as a tiny part of the whole: a detail rather than the guiding principle.
But Erik appears to understand without needing to be told how fundamental Ned's mutation is to his identity. And he can see that Ned dislikes it - what a mild word that is! Hates it, more like. Fears it, certainly. If he can see that, Ned thinks, he'll see how, by hating and fearing his power, he hates and fears himself.
How does Erik have such a knack for finding the precise things to say to make him extremely uncomfortable? None of it is aggressive, or malicious - in fact, his intent is almost friendly, or some variation thereupon - but the end result is the same. Ned cannot answer him properly without telling him everything, and at the moment, he can't bear the thought of telling him anything.
"What I am and what I do are worth fearing," he murmurs, not looking at Erik. It is easier to explain in the abstract: not stories of his own life, but general principles, vague statements. Suggestive, but not quite as confessional. "It's complicated. You can build things. All I can do is... is pervert the natural order. And what's more important, I'm not like you or Charles. I can't control it, not even a little bit. For me there is no working on it and there's nothing to surpass - believe me, I've tried. For years. It works how it works and there are no exceptions, ever."
His voice has been gradually picking up speed, unravelling into a litany of words that he is barely aware of, because it's not enough. What he's said is not even a fraction of the reasons - all perfectly good - why he ought to hate his power. He is hardly even speaking to Erik, anymore, "You get to choose, and I don't. For me, a tiny slip isn't just a tiny slip, it's life and death. The best I can do is try to make as few mistakes as possible, and... and atone for the rest."