To Connor, from Adrienne
((A message from Adrienne.... DundunDUN!))
Connor.
You asked me if I trust you-or rather, stated that I don’t. And in a way, you’re right; but not entirely. I trust you to listen to my brother and abide by what he says and feels, as your fondness for him is evident. What I don’t trust is your capacity for the unusual and your control over reactions to such things.
And that is why I feel the need to warn you myself, before you hear it from him. You say that you want to know him, and that is admirable and I am glad to hear it-he feels the same, and it makes me happy just to see such a smile on his face. But you say that you want to know everything, and I know he will tell you whatever you ask because he adores you, no question. He has many strange things that fall under that category, and here is the thing that I must ask of you; do not be alarmed.
I understand that you want this to work out, and believe me, I do too, if only for Al’s sake. That is why I have to ask you to remember that no matter what you may learn about Alchemy, he is still the same person he was when you first met him.
In a similar vein, I must also ask that you refrain from pressing him for answers, although I am fully aware that the choice to heed me is entirely yours. As I said, he wants to do and be whatever you want, and as such will tell you what you wish-but there are many things about his self and past that disturb him, and it would be painful for him to have them brought up once more.
I know that you care for him-I can tell, but I still must speak as the voice of a certain amount of concern that he seems unable or unwilling to produce himself. He is all I have left.
I hope that you understand that I don’t mean to get between the two of you when I say these things.
Connor.
You asked me if I trust you-or rather, stated that I don’t. And in a way, you’re right; but not entirely. I trust you to listen to my brother and abide by what he says and feels, as your fondness for him is evident. What I don’t trust is your capacity for the unusual and your control over reactions to such things.
And that is why I feel the need to warn you myself, before you hear it from him. You say that you want to know him, and that is admirable and I am glad to hear it-he feels the same, and it makes me happy just to see such a smile on his face. But you say that you want to know everything, and I know he will tell you whatever you ask because he adores you, no question. He has many strange things that fall under that category, and here is the thing that I must ask of you; do not be alarmed.
I understand that you want this to work out, and believe me, I do too, if only for Al’s sake. That is why I have to ask you to remember that no matter what you may learn about Alchemy, he is still the same person he was when you first met him.
In a similar vein, I must also ask that you refrain from pressing him for answers, although I am fully aware that the choice to heed me is entirely yours. As I said, he wants to do and be whatever you want, and as such will tell you what you wish-but there are many things about his self and past that disturb him, and it would be painful for him to have them brought up once more.
I know that you care for him-I can tell, but I still must speak as the voice of a certain amount of concern that he seems unable or unwilling to produce himself. He is all I have left.
I hope that you understand that I don’t mean to get between the two of you when I say these things.