#its also a minefield of misunderstanding bc nel is like

[nelithic]

as one blade tempers, another cools. a sigh escapes her throat like the unheard breezes that undercut the squall, curling soundlessly in its wake. "that is not what i meant." but is it not? even as nil, she thinks, he had ever been more volatile than she; more prone to guidance by emotion, to guidance by ambition. even now she looks at the furrowed ruby sparking at her in the dark, demanding explanation, and sees that same bone marrow under a different name. he had never accused her directly like this as nil, yet despite herself, she finds the corners of her mouth lifting only a little.

( had there not been a drop of that same petulance, even there? )

she had once thought it a trait belonging to her birth twin now deceased, but after enough time, conflation becomes memory. perhaps the former nil she had known as a child had never once stamped his foot, had never once whined or acted out in temper. perhaps, even masked under a different frame, that had always been rafal.

she grows sentimental.

nel shakes her head, both to bring clarity back to mind and banish the traces of amusement from her face lest they tempt greater offense. but how to explain? the grounds from which her concerns stemmed were not palatable material for either of them, to say nothing of disturbing the inchoate peace that had settled between them since arriving to this land with needless ripples. she could simply accept rafal at his word; she supposes that a good and faithful sister would do as much.

he would need to forgive her. "when we last spoke at length . . . you bared your thoughts to me by baring your fangs. you were grasping for our father's power and his recognition, despite knowing as well as i that all that remains of gradlon stands here and now beside this grave."

a small pause, during which a certain shadow of pain comes over her expression, darkening its pale color like a partial eclipse. she continues with some undisguised regret, though the thorn fades gradually as she speaks, tone levelling out again by the end: "though i realize that was not your whole truth at that time, i still cannot help but harbor some caution that it was not also wholly false."

and was that all that gnawed at her mind? . . . for now, yes, as much as she needed to say aloud to him. the rest was her own reckoning, duty under a different name. in a way, she is glad for the change he had undergone, and how different he truly was from the camouflage worn for countless centuries. it makes it simpler for her, too — she doubts she could continue to protect him the same way were he still and ever to be that nil.

"if you desire to raise the corrupted once more so you may always be prepared, i will not stop you. i would only . . . " wish he had not found it so easy to resort to the same means by which he had once brought about, and unto himself, so much suffering. " . . . ask that you be mindful."

　𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

　　　　　╰　　❪　board: fracture / + authority　❫