And with Glacius' expression falls Carlisle's, as well: his friend's turmoil is so strong that he cannot ignore it, no matter how worn he is. Whatever it was his double had done, it poisoned the bond between the two of them, so tortured Glacius that he struggles to talk about it, even with someone who has already seen him at his lowest, who has always been on his side. The two of them have staved off loneliness by finding comfort in each other. If Glacius thought Carlisle had turned against him, and that he was to suffer that intolerable alienation once more...
The clergyman's face twists, his vision blurring not from his health, but from some private heartache, his eyes bleary as a grim realization overwhelms him. The double had meant what he said when he'd threatened to push Glacius to take his own life; however, he'd never intended to do it through compulsion at all. He hadn't needed to, not when the pits of despair that Carlisle himself had helped pull the alien from were so much more effective.
It's a terrible thought, and one far too close to Carlisle's heart. The false him must have known that, and sought to destroy them both in one go. Worst of all, he may have succeeded.
From his spot in the alien's arms, Carlisle tries to reassure his dearest friend through action rather than words: he reaches for Glacius' jaw to put a hand to his scar, the physical remains of an event that, as horrible as it had been, ultimately drew them together. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice strained. "Whatever it was this apparition did on my behalf... I am sorry, my friend."
[cw: suicidal ideation]
The clergyman's face twists, his vision blurring not from his health, but from some private heartache, his eyes bleary as a grim realization overwhelms him. The double had meant what he said when he'd threatened to push Glacius to take his own life; however, he'd never intended to do it through compulsion at all. He hadn't needed to, not when the pits of despair that Carlisle himself had helped pull the alien from were so much more effective.
It's a terrible thought, and one far too close to Carlisle's heart. The false him must have known that, and sought to destroy them both in one go. Worst of all, he may have succeeded.
From his spot in the alien's arms, Carlisle tries to reassure his dearest friend through action rather than words: he reaches for Glacius' jaw to put a hand to his scar, the physical remains of an event that, as horrible as it had been, ultimately drew them together. "I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice strained. "Whatever it was this apparition did on my behalf... I am sorry, my friend."