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Sherlock's gyrfalcon runs his beak through Shell Bell's hair.

"Explain?" he says softly.
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The smew gazes up adoringly at the gyrfalcon and snuggles up to the nearest available Sherlock-skin.

"I'm - I think this is a template thing but I don't know how strongly - I'm so very wrapped up in what I want. All the time. It's just everyone else's luck that a lot of things I want have to do with them, and that most of the things I want that have to do with other people are nice things. And that was harpy-ammunition and I felt bad about being selfish and I was trying to do something else and I couldn't figure out how, and I'm not sure if that's good."
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"Something else?" prompts Sherlock.

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"Besides thinking about what I want all the time. I know you don't, at least not the way I do. I couldn't translate myself into that - mental language, though. About the closest I managed was feeling bad about everything I liked so I would want it less. I couldn't even make sense of wanting to do things for you without that being about me wanting it first."

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"...you could say that I prioritize others before myself because it is what I want to do," Sherlock says thoughtfully.

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"You could say that. But the - order of priority is different. My wanting to do nice things for other people fights it out on a level playing field with wanting ice cream; I mean, they're rarely incompatible and the first one's usually stronger but they're not different kinds of things on the immediate level. I don't think I would say that about you."

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"Ah. No," says Sherlock. "That's true."

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"And then wanting things felt awful and I couldn't figure out what else to do except cry and try to escape from anything that might make it stop, because if it stopped I would go back to unabashedly wanting things, and that would make me a horrible person."

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"That was unpleasant," says Sherlock.

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"Yes. In a way it helped when you held my daemon but it was also really confusing."

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"How?"

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"I couldn't tell myself you were lying. You weren't saying anything. But the harpy was still winning. So I had something in my head that I couldn't explain or dismiss - and it was a nice thing but under the circumstances that wasn't less confusing than a bad thing would've been."

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"Hm."

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Snuggle.

"What?"
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"I don't know. There is nothing here I can solve. I don't think it would improve matters any if you began thinking like I do."

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"Nnno. Probably not."

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She shrugs.

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"It's interesting that I couldn't do it even when I was motivated to, though."

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"Interesting how?"

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"If you'd asked me before if I could change it if I really, really wanted to I would've thought I probably could. Maybe I need better reasons than feeling horrible and selfish, though, not just the plain want."

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"...I cannot imagine what sort of reason that might be."

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"I don't know either or I bet the harpy would've made me think of it."

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...Sherlock kisses her forehead.

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Snuggles.

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Yes. Those.

Snuggles and hair-preening.
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