Beautiful things can be dangerous. Paul is his mother's son, and so has known that the whole of his life. He has no doubt that whatever force animates these visions would have sent them tumbling into the abyss below if their answers were judged unworthy.
Dangerous things can be kind. He knows that from his mother, and almost everything and everyone else he's ever loved, including the young man at his side. A sense of peace settles over Paul where the light does not, invisible and yet still shining. He exhales softly in the silence, stirring the cool abyssal air, and he accepts the feeling for what it is.
He's sure if this is the place for the questions he has even with the sense of calm that follows their acceptance. He's poised to say as much before Midoriya asks his own question first, and his mouth quirks in a slightly rueful smile. It's a shy one, if a person knows what shyness looks like on his face.
"She doesn't give out causes," he says, shaking his head, "I've learned that much. She gives...experiences. I thought they were puzzles, once. Something to solve, and then I'd understand it all. What she wanted from me. What I was meant to be, and do."
He goes briefly quiet, dropping his gaze to their linked hands, then lifts it back to Midoriya's eyes.
"I'll never understand all the things I want to understand," he admits, light as the shifting colours around them, "But it's the trying that makes sense of the world. Not holding myself apart from it, or above, but being in it. We're all sea creatures. It's not up to me to change the currents. It's up to me to choose how I swim them."
"Or something like that." He smiles wider, more crookedly. "I don't think any of us have all the answers. Not even her. So my question to you is...do you think there's any answer from you I should have, before we go forward?"
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Dangerous things can be kind. He knows that from his mother, and almost everything and everyone else he's ever loved, including the young man at his side. A sense of peace settles over Paul where the light does not, invisible and yet still shining. He exhales softly in the silence, stirring the cool abyssal air, and he accepts the feeling for what it is.
He's sure if this is the place for the questions he has even with the sense of calm that follows their acceptance. He's poised to say as much before Midoriya asks his own question first, and his mouth quirks in a slightly rueful smile. It's a shy one, if a person knows what shyness looks like on his face.
"She doesn't give out causes," he says, shaking his head, "I've learned that much. She gives...experiences. I thought they were puzzles, once. Something to solve, and then I'd understand it all. What she wanted from me. What I was meant to be, and do."
He goes briefly quiet, dropping his gaze to their linked hands, then lifts it back to Midoriya's eyes.
"I'll never understand all the things I want to understand," he admits, light as the shifting colours around them, "But it's the trying that makes sense of the world. Not holding myself apart from it, or above, but being in it. We're all sea creatures. It's not up to me to change the currents. It's up to me to choose how I swim them."
"Or something like that." He smiles wider, more crookedly. "I don't think any of us have all the answers. Not even her. So my question to you is...do you think there's any answer from you I should have, before we go forward?"