Nothing has gone wrong.

René didn't harp on the point; they were Lark's children, and it was up to him. With... their new addition, well. Maybe René would have some more opinions to express then.

But for now it wasn't something to linger on.

Don't you sigh at him! Lark got a playful streak of rebellion, which was tempering the anxiety he was staving off. "Well, now I don' want to. You shoul' be BEGGING to hear my questions, they're all real soul-searchy and uh- insightful."

That's what a man wants in a question, right?

"Never said I was." She was bold and critical and blunt, but she never claimed to have the right of it. Just what she thought or felt of things. And experience to share. Only that those things made her strong and hard headed. She wasn't worried about 'right' and 'wrong'. Beyond the moral stuff and even that was viewed by her own particular lens. Not everyone elses.

Her thumbs turned over each other to the bit about what she thought in the aftermath. "You are trying hard in the ways that you think you need to. Leads back to how your anxiety is very focused on yourself and how you relates to everyone else. That's not the same as what I expect given my style. I mean, I have some anxieties about my negative impact on other people, but you pinpoint everything to you." She exhaled through her nose. "All red threads lead to yourself, to you. You don't really exam the threads that have no connection directly to you and your experience and influence." He was asking. She would answer.

"When I was having a mental...whatever...today, you were more worried about yourself and how you effect me and how you can change me by doing things yourself. Not considering my feelings independently of you. How the entire situation might be for me. How I might be thinking about my child, about your children, about the dangers I had held in my arms, consequences that had nothing to do with you depending on my actions. Your happiness and safety is important to me, don't get me wrong, but they are not paramount to my decisions or anxieties. In that moment, you couldn't see around yourself enough to see me. To take the time to create an independent frame of reference not predicated on you. You think you are the onus of all good and bad. You are not." She tried. She was really trying. Her most.

This was all very vulnerable for her and she rather be snagged in a bear trap and gnawing out with her own teeth on some level.

"Yes." A plain answer. Eyes closing as a grimace came over her.

"...That's not...entirely true. It wasn't at first? I mean- yeah, I wanted to help. But-" He sighed and turned just long enough to put the knife in the sink. To be washed.

"I started out just- worried about you. I didn' want you to disappear, and- I don't...I don't think that's completely selfish. I didn't want Lune to lose you, either. And uh- I knew that whole thing, it has nothin' to do with me. And you don't owe me anythin'. But I don't want you to go and for nobody to know, for nobody to know where you went? And I guess- I mean you could tell somebody else, and that would be fine. I guess it's selfish I want you to tell me."

She wasn't entirely wrong, and he wasn't not hearing her. He wasn't rejecting it all.

His shoulders fell. Because thinking it through, maybe she was more right than wrong.

"...I'm sorry, I just- I know, I knew. I knew I wasn't- me knowing isn't that important, and uh- I just. I wanted to be selfish, just- just long enough to ask- to tell you...I just wanted to know. I just wanted a chance to say bye. I know you have so much going on that I don't know, and I don't need to know, because I can't help. When I try to help, this happens." He gave an exasperated gesture beside his head.

"But then I think- I think about the hole, and- and I think that I should know! I just-"

He waved it off. He wasn't making sense, he was contradicting himself over and over.

"I KNOW, when I'm not in the middle of panicking, that I'm not th'center of the universe. I promise I know, and I promise I- I do think about how you feel, and I know you've got other shit on your mind. I know that, I was knowing that, but when you sat down on the bed, I didn't know what that MEANT, and I whiffed it, and then I thought, you piece of shit Lark, you keep reminding yourself it's not about you, but what if it actually is, and you're giving yourself a free pass!"

He is so! Mentally ill! He was working so hard not to think that way, he was SUCCESSFULLY NOT THINKING THAT WAY for half the interaction! Then right at the end he fell straight back into the Lark-is-Bad death spiral.

"And- I know I'm kind of...splitting hairs, but- I just want you to know I know. Or at least, I suspect? I think about- everything you have to worry about. About Lune, and- and your...your mental illness, and um- Envy? And- and everyone here, you just- If- I just don't know. I don't KNOW, but I suspect, I feel like it has to be...so much. But I don't know. I don't know when you're thinking about what, or what emotions are tied up in it, or what will make it better or worse. So- so I couldn't figure it out. And I made the wrong choices. I'm sorry."

"Star Trek I'd take, but I'd still hope if I had a red shirt situation I'd end up either back on Earth or on the ship or station I was normally on. I don't want a Darmok and Jalad at Tanagra moment." That sort of sci-fi he would take. But still. Space scary. And very, very, very big.

He liked the big enough dirt ball they were on.

"Mmm. Even the most comfortable cage will still have you tearing at the bars with your teeth before long." He knew Envy was still a threat, but he still thought the kids needed a larger world than their yard and the house. But they weren't his.

Lark grew a little uncomfortable, shoulders hunching up at René calling it a cage. It wasn't like Lark didn't know. He knew he was keeping his kids cooped up. But he just...wasn't ready to deal with it.

There was a whole 'nother kitten coming. He just wasn't ready.

When René shifted, Lark practically radiated delight. It wasn't just the joy of a soft body beside him, but the fact that René was so thoughtful to do it just for him. He immediately turned onto his side and wrapped his arms around René, pulling fingers through his fur on the back of his neck and to his shoulders. "...are you- will you..."

"You showed me it when you painted, I think, but you can show it to me as many times as you like." And he was certainly happy to sprawl on a big soft surface with a fluffy twiggy cat man draped over him.

René did still feel an element of shyness around Lark's children, but he did offer them a wave with his free hand-- including Falcata-- even if he didn't get a response besides from Duck.

Lark gave a somewhat embarrassed grin for his forgetfulness, plus when he realized he was holding hands with René in front of the kids(and he didn't remember if he'd explained this dynamic to them yet!! Though surely Raven knew, woof). But he didn't rush, letting René wave(and waving himself, of course) and shouting encouragement to the kids before heading inside.

"Outside has been their favorite. I uh- I dunno what I'd do without Dev makin' a place that's safe for them. They'd tear th'house down if they couldn' go outside."

Once René more-or-less agreed to come along, Lark pulled him straight towards Devang's house. Could do the trailer, but today he wanted stability that went beyond that. "Have I shown you my room yet? It's warded now."

More importantly, it had the best couch-bed ever.

But first, they had to navigate the yard, which was covered in various toys, and lit by some string lights that Lake had put up. Duck and Goose were kicking a ball around in the early dark, while Raven was seated under a tree with a book and a clip-on booklight. Falcata was seated in a lawn chair texting away, a real classic barely-there babysitter. Falcata didn't even look up, while Duck immediately stopped chasing the ball to instead turn and wave enthusiastically at Lark and René. Goose huffed and shouted, "Duck, kick the ball!"

"There is a difference between how you are always hypervigilant of yourself and your effect on others and how I am always waiting to get fucking stabbed in the ribs the moment I don't read the room correctly for danger. Inward and outward. I am outward." She was doing her best to give him context. Hands doing a light ringing of each other. Mostly pulling and twisting fingers at the joints like she did when they weren't made of imagination and willpower.

"I have exposition. Not solutions."

His words about house and her did make her look down at the counter. She often did consider herself and object. He wasn't off the mark there. That did...ease something. To be understood was sometimes all she could hope for from others.

His foot claws flexed into the floor, and he shifted his weight a few times. "I mean, you can't always get it right either. You thought I was waitin' for you to kick me out."

He USED TO be waiting for that, for sure! But she'd told him enough times by now that he'd started to believe her. He really truly didn't fear that anymore. He had a lot of fears, and some did involve her, but it wasn't like that.

He trusted her. And a...fair portion of the time, he was even fairly certain she liked having him around. To some extent.

"...Do you still think that of me? Later, when things aren't bad? I'm jus' not tryin' hard enough?"

When all the emotional turmoil ends and you can come back up for air, do you still think lowly of him? That would hurt. It wouldn't like...ruin everything, but it would hurt.

"Cuz- cuz today, I mean- I feel like a dumbass. And I wish I hadn' bothered you so much, and I worry about you. But I figured that uh- maybe, same way I'm a fuckin' panicky mess sometimes...you're angry sometimes. And it's not...we're two differen' flavors of meltdowns. I'm not gonna keep...holdin' onto that. Like I used to."

After all, Devang said most of her hypervigilance was waiting for a knife-

"Have you tried being less annoying?" Alastor decided to probe, but he did not think he would get very far with that brand of questioning. "In any case, perhaps you might benefit from a bit of open-mindedness." A hypocritical - and ironic, given Lark's earlier thinking - recommendation, coming from him, but Alastor was certainly not the one consistently seeking approval from people around him. Lark seemed much more the type to care.

But he brushed the matter aside, not expecting the cat man to give him much of a productive answer, watching casually as the food was packed away before the other continued on with a wildly different subject matter.

"Depends on what you mean by magic. Slight of hand? Illusions? Diverting, I suppose. Husker is much more the sort to dabble in such things - the whole... card and hat thing he's got going on... He rather enjoys performing card tricks on occasion when he is drunk enough." And Alastor had been audience to them at least a dozen or more times. "But if you mean magic - the sort that sinners develop over time with the amassing of power -"

He lifted a hand, his pointer claw lifted which then sprouted a sickeningly green flame at the end of it, as though it were a lighter. Only briefly did it flicker and flare before disappearing again.

"HA! I'D benefit from open-mindedness?" Yeah, no, Lark wasn't letting that one slide. "Mate, I used t'think all art was impractical bullshit. I made art with a chainsaw cuz I thought, I'm an engineer, not an artist!"

Not something he'd fully examined until later. Silliness. He hadn't taken himself for that kind of close-minded.

But anyways.

"Nah, real magic- oh shit! Fire power!" Lark excitedly snapped his fingers, summoning up a little fire of his own, but over his thumb rather than forefinger. His was warm and red, run of the mill fire. He then bit his lip as the green flame died out, and he squinted at his own fire. Slowly, with some concentration, he was able to shift the hue. He couldn't get that vicious green out of it (nor was that particularly to his tastes), but it shifted to pale yellow, then a gentle mint. He finally let the fire die, letting out a held breath.

"I can change th'color of electric lights, too, but I feel like tha's more an illusion thing." He shrugged. Both of these were kind of parlor tricks.

"You ever tried scrying?"

"Who do we know who could just toss me into a black hole?" he managed after a few moments, shoulders still shaking as he tried to keep himself composed.

"Hey now, we don' wanna introduce other planets to yer grave wake-ups. I'm sure Dagus would be happy to pick yah up, but we'd have to track 'em down, and tha's a whole thing."

Big old kiss back, but careful to hold the painted hand out to the side, very daintily. Didn't want to mess up his nails! (Claws!)

"Oh, it would jus' be for decoration. Jus' a pop of color, yanno. Yer not th' only one who can be fabo all th' time."

He got that little innuendo at the end there though, don't you worry.

"I dunno, you might like it if I come at you with caps." He put a hand behind Worth's back, snaking up under his shirt, and ran his fingers down his spine without quite letting the claws out.

"Save th'best for last...then all I gotta do is..."

He got Worth's unpainted hand in his free hand, and brought it to his mouth, pushing one of the claws out and gently biting it and then pulling away, like if he were to bite off one of those decorative plastic caps.

Kind of him to hold back the disdain, because Raven would absolutely have taken that to heart. His half-demon lineage was half of why he was here! As it was, he was a tiny bit disappointed, but not overly upset. "Oh. That's cool."

Raven leaned back a little. "...I'd try to teach you how to smile, but I'm not very good at it either." It was true. Raven tended to express his happiness with a tail raised high rather than showing his teeth.

And Raven scoffed. "The best self-defense is not going outside," He griped, his ears going back and tail lashing. Of course, he was more complaining than anything. His dad had already taught him a little very basic self defense, couched with a lot of "just run or hide if you can".

"...I want to kill demons." His little paws were clenched into fists. He'd get in trouble for saying that, but he'd probably get just as much guilt-ridden support. There were more horrible demons than good ones.

heading out to see The Amazing Digital Circus: The Last Act pretty soon, so other replies after I get home probably? Might pick at some of them before we go, but I'm pretty hungry and we're eating when we get there lol

"I'm not mad at you. You're not doing anything wrong. I do need you to stop thinking that I am going to hang your housing and food over you and your children's head. Even subconsciously; it's what I'm sensing in the background radiation. That power dynamic is not existent to me. It will take far more than a minor, or even major, disagreement for me to even consider it. Still, I'd fucking buy you a place. Send some guys to ward the place. Whatever else. Okay?" She didn't wait for an answer to her hypothetical.

"You also have got to stop trying to hang your emotional regulation hat on me. I can't regulate my fucking self. I am sorry, I cannot help you regulate your anxiety while I'm having mental breakdowns, okay? Alright. I can listen and I can sometimes give a hug or talk, but when I'm going off the rails the last thing I am capable of is figuring you the fuck out too. That conflict was why me and Charlie broke up to start with. It's not going to happen, it's not logistically possible for me.

Lastly, I'm staying. Mostly because I need to figure out who is going with me." Much as she HATED that idea. It'd be sense-talked into her to consider it.

A few times he glanced up, but then down again, because it wasn't his turn to speak. Just had to carefully hold all the information in his head and try to figure out what to say, if anything.

When she was done, he set down the knife. Swiveled it a little on the counter, like he was going to give it a spin, but not so much as that.

"...I didn' realize you were havin' a breakdown until I started uh- y'know. Making it worse. I'm sorry." The more simple apology, then he grimaced and waved a hand, elaborating. "And then I didn' know if I was makin' it worse by being there, or if it'd be like...an asshole move to leave you alone? After I maybe made your day worse? I dunno. I jus- I wanted to do whatever made things better for you. Even if it's hard. For me to do."

He forced a laugh and grabbed a paper towel to sop up some watermelon juice from his hands. "I uh- I can't always read the room? And then I panicked. I just- wish you could tell me when I need to leave you alone." And guiltily, "...and that I'd listen when you said it, sorry."

He stopped, and looked at her. "But- I uh. I don't. I don't think you'll kick us out, Dev. I DEFINITELY don' think you'd kick the kids out. I don' think you'd starve us. I don' even think you'd passive-aggressively try to get us to move out on our own!"

Lark was getting a little too loud, so he stopped and looked down again, wiping the counter, putting watermelon away. "That- that's the problem. I just- I don' think you'd tell me if you'd be happier if we left. You act like you're the house, and th'house doesn' get to have feelings, or some shit like that. But- but I love the house."

His voice got a wobble that he swallowed back. Yeah, heap your emotions on her again, why don't you. "...I'd rather move out than tear it down."

So. You know.

"...I don' want you to manage my emotions, I want to stop kicking you with 'em."