[Enoch can't help but make some small noise in relief when Beckett finally breaks the silence, a tiny sigh that the tablet's mic may or may not pick up. He'd been worried he had inadvertently said something offensive. He knows being a vampire is important to Beckett, and doesn't want to disrespect or even somehow go so far as to damage that.
He wants to ask more about the "beast" - he has an idea of what it means, given what happened to Charlie and Charles. Raw instinct, the need for food. Like a lion or a wolf. It's a part of him too, necessary to survive if he is deprived, he thinks, and Enoch can't see that much as wrong. It must be vital in some measure.
But Beckett's words about his humanity trouble him. Echo. Shell. "Empty" words. It is no longer quite the same troubling thought as it was. There's the fear he's wrong after all, yes, but his first reaction now is pity, wringing out his heart. He thinks so lowly about this integral part of himself, this part of himself he has carried well before this beast was introduced. He must address this, even if he hasn't asked enough questions about it yet to be more certain. It hurts too much to think of Beckett thinking of himself in such terms. Again, he finds the lack of physical presence like an ache, this lack of ability to reach out a comforting hand.]
I might have...a suggestion of an answer. I can't claim to know your experience, but I can tell you something of men. Man's strength among his neighbors on Earth has never been his raw power, speed, defenses, or keen senses. It is perseverance. He will walk for hours at a time, miles under conditions which would make stronger, faster creatures collapse in exhaustion. Present him with an obstacle, and if he cannot surmount it with what he has he will find or invent a tool to help him do so, however many tries it takes. We have never needed an imposing presence, only to simply be present. And perhaps that is all we need, even if it is only a spark.
Again, I can't claim to know how it feels, but- but I hope that this is worth something to you.
Hugs are important, he'll take it! Looks like he's wanting to give one of his own rn though
He wants to ask more about the "beast" - he has an idea of what it means, given what happened to Charlie and Charles. Raw instinct, the need for food. Like a lion or a wolf. It's a part of him too, necessary to survive if he is deprived, he thinks, and Enoch can't see that much as wrong. It must be vital in some measure.
But Beckett's words about his humanity trouble him. Echo. Shell. "Empty" words. It is no longer quite the same troubling thought as it was. There's the fear he's wrong after all, yes, but his first reaction now is pity, wringing out his heart. He thinks so lowly about this integral part of himself, this part of himself he has carried well before this beast was introduced. He must address this, even if he hasn't asked enough questions about it yet to be more certain. It hurts too much to think of Beckett thinking of himself in such terms. Again, he finds the lack of physical presence like an ache, this lack of ability to reach out a comforting hand.]
I might have...a suggestion of an answer. I can't claim to know your experience, but I can tell you something of men. Man's strength among his neighbors on Earth has never been his raw power, speed, defenses, or keen senses. It is perseverance. He will walk for hours at a time, miles under conditions which would make stronger, faster creatures collapse in exhaustion. Present him with an obstacle, and if he cannot surmount it with what he has he will find or invent a tool to help him do so, however many tries it takes. We have never needed an imposing presence, only to simply be present. And perhaps that is all we need, even if it is only a spark.
Again, I can't claim to know how it feels, but- but I hope that this is worth something to you.