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[aestivation]

 
  

[  crystals, letters, private scenes  ]

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[exequy]

[ There is, at least, a pause—a pause for working his jaw, weighing the peculiar loyalties and odd manifestations of self-preservation and eternally-kept secrets of the Tranquil, second guessing honesty. ]

Change it.

[ He'll ask the Maker's forgiveness later. ]

If you— [ That. Kostos gestures to the book. There was never a time he looked up to Casimir, not unequivocally; as a teenager (and adult, and ever) he was self-righteous in his self-loathing, a twisted arrogance toward anyone who didn't understand how horrible they were. But it was a cousin of jealousy. Enviable and stupid and brave, to follow interests where they lead, to crawl under the bed at night to have a look instead of keeping one's limbs away from the edges of the mattress. Nikos was usually the one to check, and to fake thumping and strangulation beneath the mattress.

But this isn't just a child's fear. There is something underneath, lurking. ]

You have to tell us. We have to handle it ourselves. You cannot make us find out the hard way.

[aestivation]

I understand the risks.

[ there’s no telling whether it’s possible to go back.

if that were all this were, a decision to made and unmade, then agreement would be easy. he might later object, as he’d objected once before — but that wouldn’t matter long. this life has been peaceful, productive; knelt in the grass the thought had crossed his mind to miss it. dread only precedes relief.

they don’t know that it works like that. that a door stripped from hinges may be shut again. he nods; it’s not agreement. not yet. ]

You asked me whether I wanted this; I haven’t forgotten. I’ve chosen to honour my wishes.

[ pronouns are too imprecise for this. a slight pause, a hitch in vocabulary. ]

But I don’t want to die, Kostos. That must be heard as well. I must be. [ as he is now. not assurances, then, but an exchange: ] If I tell you, if I’m to be handled, you have to try.

[ surely someone in the inquisition has a brand. ]

[exequy]

[ Kostos tries to imagine Nell’s face. It is—to be precise and poetic—not good.

But he nods anyway. ]

Whatever I can do.

[ Unless Casimir doesn’t want it anymore. Or maybe even if he does. Whether his opinion counts for more or less as he is now is a question they are all being mercifully spared from answering by his ongoing cooperation. Is he one person, inhibited, or one person, enhanced, or two people, split, sharing a body and a life, with two equally valid desires. If he had refused once the feelings faded—

It doesn’t matter now what they would have done then. ]

Thank you.

[ For honoring his wishes, his wishes. Whichever. Whatever. Kostos squares his shoulders and raises his chin. ]

That was all. I’ll.

[ Go. ]

[aestivation]

You’re welcome.

[ It’s — not the right thing to say. It’s all that he can think to. The guidebooks don’t cover this, not filed between childhood friend and mutual risk.

Possibly he’d find something in Orlais. ]

If you require anything, [ There. Familiar ground. ] I'm here.

[ If not, perhaps, as he'd been in the woods. ]