Bunny paused in the doorframe. "You can't drag anyone else into trouble here, because there's already trouble everywhere. Going out alone is the only way left to get yourself in more. And I didn't tell you so you'd be sorry."
He didn't like talking about his mortal life. "Sorry" didn't match what had been done to him, to his loved ones, to the world in the process. People so often said it when they heard, when he'd rather they realize he was trying to prove a point, not receive condolences. Sorry. There would never be enough "sorry" in the world.
And even if there could be, he did not live to make people sorry.
He leaned back in the doorway, staring at the frame opposite him.
"I told you because you need to know this isn't magical-happy-ending-land. Horror isn't a fresh import around these parts. It was here before you were. It was here before I was the only one of what I am."
He gestured around the Pole. "If everything you've seen here looks child-friendly, it's because we've been fighting for centuries to make it as close to that as possible. And we don't always succeed."
He hated saying so out loud, but it was true. There was always the hope of a far-flung future where they weren't needed, where the children had plenty of hope and wonder without them, but until then, they had work to do that didn't include believing their might infallible. And Raph's near-vivisection was proof of it, anyway.
"And now, not only do we have all the threats that kept us busy before, we have all the threats from all the possible worlds to consider. Including all of yours."
And four less Guardians to fight them. He wasn't going to go into the new guardians, and how they stacked up in comparison to the old ones. There just wasn't a comparison. A skilled 16 year old kid might stand in as a hero, but he wasn't a Guardian. Not really. There was no substitute for that much experience. Or that much dedication to the cause.
"And I told you because I want you to remember that you have a family to stay alive for. You have a family to compromise for. They make telling someone you're not sure of yourself braver than risking your skin to find out if you're all right. That's such a precious thing."
He was not happy to give an angry, impulsive kid he barely knew insight into his personal sorrows, but sometimes being a Guardian meant hurting, and sometimes that meant taking off your armor and baring scars that still hurt. A kid could be the sort of person to reach out and dig their claws into a vulnerability when they saw it, but being a Guardian meant letting them if that was what they had to do.
"I told you, not because I think you don't think about that already. But because I want you to think about it more. Ideally, every time you're thinking about going out into all that without someone to watch your back. I don't want you to be scared, or blindly obedient. I want to know that you understand the risk."
no subject
He didn't like talking about his mortal life. "Sorry" didn't match what had been done to him, to his loved ones, to the world in the process. People so often said it when they heard, when he'd rather they realize he was trying to prove a point, not receive condolences. Sorry. There would never be enough "sorry" in the world.
And even if there could be, he did not live to make people sorry.
He leaned back in the doorway, staring at the frame opposite him.
"I told you because you need to know this isn't magical-happy-ending-land. Horror isn't a fresh import around these parts. It was here before you were. It was here before I was the only one of what I am."
He gestured around the Pole. "If everything you've seen here looks child-friendly, it's because we've been fighting for centuries to make it as close to that as possible. And we don't always succeed."
He hated saying so out loud, but it was true. There was always the hope of a far-flung future where they weren't needed, where the children had plenty of hope and wonder without them, but until then, they had work to do that didn't include believing their might infallible. And Raph's near-vivisection was proof of it, anyway.
"And now, not only do we have all the threats that kept us busy before, we have all the threats from all the possible worlds to consider. Including all of yours."
And four less Guardians to fight them. He wasn't going to go into the new guardians, and how they stacked up in comparison to the old ones. There just wasn't a comparison. A skilled 16 year old kid might stand in as a hero, but he wasn't a Guardian. Not really. There was no substitute for that much experience. Or that much dedication to the cause.
"And I told you because I want you to remember that you have a family to stay alive for. You have a family to compromise for. They make telling someone you're not sure of yourself braver than risking your skin to find out if you're all right. That's such a precious thing."
He was not happy to give an angry, impulsive kid he barely knew insight into his personal sorrows, but sometimes being a Guardian meant hurting, and sometimes that meant taking off your armor and baring scars that still hurt. A kid could be the sort of person to reach out and dig their claws into a vulnerability when they saw it, but being a Guardian meant letting them if that was what they had to do.
"I told you, not because I think you don't think about that already. But because I want you to think about it more. Ideally, every time you're thinking about going out into all that without someone to watch your back. I don't want you to be scared, or blindly obedient. I want to know that you understand the risk."
From Kuk, and to his family.