[ touch ] sender places their hand affectionately on receiver.
MYTHOLOGY, BY DEFINITION, MAKES something unreal. An augmented figment of human imagination, given laws and boundaries by which it should abide. Religion, like folklore, is a product of the mind. A way to breed sense into the inherent chaos of nature. If there is a reason for everything, nothing happens in vain. Every wrongful death can be explained, every tragedy lined in silver and a steadfast belief in the will of the Divine. Is his existence proof of God's invisible blueprint or the power of words, and how can his God be the only one when creatures like Lydia Martin roam the earth alongside him?
She is a figure of a far-off pantheon, wiped out by Rome and the eventual birth of Christianity. While he is the failed guardian of persecuted diaspora. Yet they have both survived, omen and protector, transcending scripture and storybook pages; fitting into a world where they do not belong. It it magic or godliness that makes them? Or something more sinister?
Emet knows where he comes from, but not what keeps him going, while Lydia seems much of the reverse. Her relentless ambition and pursual of it is a very human characteristic. He in comparison often feels like a stunted fixture of nature, uprooted from the specific responsibility of his creation.
Lydia helps, in her own way. Her expectations are clear, her instructions detailed. She is honest with him, almost to the point of cruelty, but even the meanness is familiar in such a way it becomes comforting. She helps him be better, coloring in the grey between the black and white barriers he'd seen through his whole existence. Working in the neurological ward has helped him see that. A fact she acknowledges one evening after he'd been forced to separate her from a violent patient. At one point, he would have thought to lash out in equal measure at seeing someone harm her. Which is exactly what she says to him after the patient is settled back in their room, putting a hand on his arm.
He freezes beneath the touch, but does not flinch away. She catches his discomfort regardless, perceptive as she is, and quickly pulls back. Emet reaches out to stop her, catching her small wrist in his grasp. Gently as he can manage, he draws her hand into the center of his palm. He turns her hand over, revealing the deep scratch the patient had given her before he pulled them off. The look he gives her is meaningful, chin tilting in the direction of one of the first aid cabinets fixed to the wall.
When she puts a hand on his shoulder as he's dressing her wound later, he does not move away.
nonverbal meme prompts / not accepting.
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