Work Text:
Sunlight filters through green stained-glass windows, and the smell of incense heavily permeates through the air. Luxury items are scattered across various surfaces, and Nefer prides herself on keeping her private office so well taken care of.
It’s seemingly out of place, the Sumerian decor, taking one out of the snowy lands of Nod-Krai and back into the rainforests and deserts of the Nation of Wisdom. She finds that she likes the combination of both– the ability to step outside into a lawless and beautiful world but also being able to seclude herself away from it all and get a taste of home. However far away it was.
But she’s not here to daydream, as she rarely enters this room without work in mind. And especially this time, as a group of people stand behind her desk, patient but worried expressions on their faces.
Lauma draws her arms close to herself, rattling the accessories she keeps on her person. Her starlit eyes are locked on the Mondstadter alchemist, and her brows are knit in the calm-yet-motherly way. “Are you really okay with this, Mr. Albedo?”
Albedo nods, his bangs bobbing as he does so. “I’m certain. If there’s any chance of finding Rerir in my memories, I’d be a fool to withhold them.”
There’s steadiness in his teal gaze, big blue eyes that Nefer can see faint swirls of sky-blue in. Unique, she quips to herself, before focusing. “It’s not that simple. My chess set doesn’t filter between wanted memories and unwanted ones. If it deems something worthy to my– our– goal, it will grab it and play it out for us.”
“I doubt that will be much of a problem,” Albedo says, and Nefer’s lips twitch in a faint smile. He’s certainly stubborn– but as much as she’s attempting to play at concerned, she can’t help but see the opportunity this presents. Information on Rerir, and the other Sinners, is hard enough to come by. Any information helps compile the bigger picture, and Nefer is intent to get it all.
“Albedo…” Lumine speaks up from the center. (And as much as she’s always centered in every meeting, she hardly offers her opinion). “You mentioned that you don’t remember your childhood much.” She glances at Nefer. “Will that affect anything?”
“No. We could find that those memories don’t exist,” an unlikely option, considering most everyone she’s met has had a childhood, “or your mind has simply blocked them out.”
Lauma raises her head at that, and Nefer squashes the brief flicker of annoyance. “And that means those memories aren’t… the most compassionate.”
“Whatever we see will not bother me,” Albedo assures. “Khaenri’ah was not a good place for anyone, but I at least was safe during it.”
Nefer catches Durin biting his lip, sharp teeth peeking out, and he shifts unsteady on his feet. “I wish I could help.”
Albedo turns quickly, not reaching a comforting hand, but certainly comforting all the same– Nefer can sense the change in tone. “You’ve done plenty– and you’ll continue to. Besides, your memories are in worse condition than mine.”
Durin sighs, and pity curls in Nefer’s chest. She’s not sympathetic– or empathetic– like Lauma, but the sight of a boy looking so distraught is enough to make her at least wish he would stop frowning.
“Multiple sets of memories make it difficult to sift through the specifics,” she explains. “But if you know anything off the top of your head, Mr. Durin?” She spares him the formalities, keeping up the appearance that she at least tolerates everyone in this room. In reality, it’s only the Traveler– and because she’s valuable enough for Nefer to make a fortune off of her memories alone.
“I’m sorry.” He shakes his head. “Rhinedóttir’s Durin has too much… rage, to properly remember anything. And I haven’t been able to access Subject Two’s memories. It’s like he refuses me.”
“You don’t have to work so hard,” Lumine kindly offers, and Nefer gets the realization that they must know each other further than just through Albedo. “We already have enough information.” Nefer holds her tongue on adding the fact that, really, they don’t.
“I just–” he tries again, but Nefer cuts him off.
“The Traveler’s right. You’ve done enough.” She’s stern with her words and watches him shrink back at the tone. At least he seems to have given in, though. It was useless to continue standing around discussing what should’ve, could’ve, would’ve happened. The candles will keep burning and by the time they’re wax, Nefer wants these people out.
The group settles down, Durin taking his seat next to Albedo, and the two subconsciously lean closer to each other, bridging a gap that’s usually between the chairs. Lumine– noticeably without Paimon– drifts to a spare chair, and while she does sit, it’s with the anxiousness of someone ready to do something.
“Are we okay to start?” Lauma sits near Nefer, her antlers illuminating the space faintly, and her voice is ever calm and careful– making sure to take everyone’s opinion before beginning. Like a true saint.
“We should be,” Nefer says. She’s more direct with her precautions. “Last chance to bow out. We do have information already.” She turns to Albedo, and it’s slightly true– she could definitely work with what they already gathered.
But the alchemist refuses. “If there are memories of Rerir, I’d like to find them. And my own past as well.
“Alright.” Nefer traces a hand across the emerald chess set, clicking open the magnetic latches. “We’ll begin.”
The logistics of her set are something that she’s always struggled to find out, wanting to know what made it possible for her to look into others’ pasts. Alas, it’s not hers to discover, and she lets the drowsiness flit through her. Emerald light and Sumerian scents fill her with a sense of home, and she lets the chess set take her.
Nefer opens her eyes to the cold. She briefly considers that she’s standing outside– memories can take place anywhere– but walls surround her on all sides, promptly dismissing that idea. White, sanitized, and if she had to guess, a lab. Possibly in Khaenri’ah, if the architecture was anything to base off of.
It’s cold. Her thoughts echo through her head, and though she’s already gathered everything in the small hallway, she allows some of her thoughts to slip out– on display for the others. This isn’t unusual, but I expected at least some warmth in his childhood.
She allows herself to be drawn down the hallway, disturbed at how her heels don’t make a sound against the tiled floors. Normally, it wouldn’t bother her– but here it seems unnatural. There should be sounds from a lab, either human or animal, but here? Silence.
She creaks open a door and catches sight of two heads of blond. Children sit on the floor, cards sprawl out in front of them, and their voices are soft as they discuss the cards. Possibly a Khaenri’ahn game?
“You put the mora in the center,” one of them says, a boy with cropped and curly blond hair. His ruby-red eyes have large black pupils as he concentrates on putting mora– or, well, rocks– in the center. “And then we draw cards until we can match four and four until they add and multiply to each other.”
“Dorian, did Master teach you this?” the other asks, and there’s an anxious softness to his voice. It’s familiar, an accent seeped in curled words and chafed syllables. The star on his neck is also a giveaway, and Nefer appears to have found Albedo.
He’s younger than she expected, though it tracks. With medium blond hair that’s healthier than it is back in Nod-Krai. Big teal eyes are the same, though his lashes are longer and daintier. Freckles dot his cheeks like stars, but there’s a frailness in his limbs. Smaller, not pale or sickly, but there’s a noticeable shake in his stance.
“I made it up,” the other kid says. “Well, Neo made it up, but I put down all the rules.”
If Nefer had to guess, she’d say that this wasn’t Durin. It didn’t look like the boy she knew– in fact, he looked more like Albedo than Durin. Perhaps Subject Two? Durin hadn’t given her much about the apparent other sharer in his memories, but he fit most of the descriptions… and if he was related to both Dragonspine Durin and actual Durin… this could very well be him. Dorian.
“Oh.” Albedo’s gaze drops. “I don’t really remember Neo.”
Dorian similarly follows the motion, turning his head to the side as he swallows. “It’s okay. He’s exploring Teyvat, but he might be back soon. You never know.” And the lies that spill from his lips are obvious to Nefer. This boy is lying, and if she had to guess, ‘Neo’ wasn’t returning anytime soon. Possibly never.
“Maybe when he comes back, he’ll teach us more games.” Albedo picks idly at one of the cards, tracing the flower-patterned backs.
“Mhm,” Dorian hums, picking up a couple of the cards and peering at them. “Anyway, we both start drawing until we win.” He puts down a card and picks up another. “The trick is to do the math quickly so–”
“Won.”
“W-what?”
Albedo shows his cards, and if Nefer does the quick math– already knowing that they add and multiply… he’s correct. Nefer’s impressed. “I won?”
“Oh.” Dorian checks the cards and then tosses his own on the stone ground in defeat. “Yeah, you did. How’d you do that?”
“I just did the math.” Albedo shrugs, gently laying his cards on the ground instead. “It wasn’t that hard.”
Dorian’s expression grows dark, and there’s a lowering of his eyes that Nefer recognizes as concern. “Hm. Don’t tell Rhine, okay?”
“Why not?” Albedo asks, peering up at Dorian with knit brows. “Master says to tell her whenever I do something… good.”
“This isn’t good. Sorry, it’s kinda a basic skill. So, you don’t need to tell her,” Dorian says, and pats Albedo gently on the shoulder when the blond frowns. Nefer watches them from the side and wonders what would make their relationship so loving, and yet so full of lies.
Albedo’s words are lost as the memory fades, though Nefer can guess that it’s just more agreement with his brother. Blue and grey wrap around her, and she suppresses a shiver as the temperature drops once more. These aren’t the kinds of memories that are easy to access, and she almost regrets it. Almost.
No mention of Rerir yet, but Nefer’s startled at how similar Albedo and his brother look. And that he never mentioned having a brother. It wouldn’t be unusual if he didn’t tell her that– they had only known each other for a couple of days now… but she can feel the others’ surprise. Lumine’s is less so, but still apparent. If she knew something, she would have to wait until after it was over.
When the memory finally settles, Nefer recognizes Albedo and a light-haired Khaenri’ahn dressed in pristine robes. He has weathered eyes despite a young appearance, but he isn’t Rerir. Perhaps…
Her thoughts are cut off by the stranger. “Ah, you must be Rhinedóttir’s second son. A pleasure to meet you, young one.”
“A pleasure to meet you too, Mister Vedrfolnir,” Albedo responds, and Vedrfolnir’s smile deepens. That must be what the chess set picked up; Nefer realizes, the appearance of Vedrfolnir in his memories. It’s not exactly what she wanted… but it was good information, nonetheless.
“Rhinedóttir’s discussed me?” Vedrfolnir asks, amused in the way he slants his eyes.
“A little,” Albedo admits softly. “I researched you. Your gift of prophecy has benefited Khaenri’ah and is often hailed as the prized possession of the Eclipse Dynasty.”
“Your master teaches you well,” Vedrfolnir praises. He looks around the small abode, taking in the different– bare– surfaces. “As a matter of fact, where is she?”
“Out with my brother.”
The Visionary tsks, looking forlorn. “The one with the red eyes?” When Albedo nods, his smile is back though more tired. “So, I just missed her. Hm, will she be back soon?”
“Maybe.” Albedo’s answer is noncommittal, though his gaze is still fixed on Vedrfolnir. “Sometimes they’re out all day. Sometimes they come back early.”
“Interesting.” Vedrfolnir shakes his head lightly, waving his hand as to shoo away a thought. “How old are you, child?”
“Supposedly ten.”
Vedrfolnir pursues his lips in curiosity. “You’re quite smart for only ten. Does your master keep tea anywhere?”
(Nefer holds in a laugh at that, because to think that one of the Five Sinners might enjoy drinking tea as a pastime? Somehow, she doubts her companions would share her amusement).
“She does: top cupboard in the lab’s kitchen. But it’s only for special guests.” Albedo gestures to what Nefer assumes is the kitchen.
Vedrfolnir chuckles, already making his way to where Albedo pointed. “I think I consider myself a ‘special guest’. She won’t mind.”
Albedo trails after Vedrfolnir, and watches as he makes himself tea. It’s a rather simple process– possibly made even easier with the help of alchemy. The lab is clean, as expected, and Vedrfolnir– in his perfect and pretty robes– looks out of place amongst the basic decor.
“Have you met my younger brother? He’s a little older than you, but he’s good with kids,” Vedrfolnir says conversationally as he waits for his tea to settle.
Albedo brings a hand up to his chin (and Nefer recognizes this gesture immediately). “Dainsleif…? The apprentice to the King’s Sword.”
“I should’ve thought you already knew.” The Visionary sighs and sips his tea.
“I haven’t met him. But I’ll occasionally pass him and his friend.”
“Rerir?” Vedrfolnir perks up. “The boy with the curly brown hair?”
“Yes. Him.”
Nefer circles Vedrfolnir with interest. A mention, but not one of any use. She’d figured that these memories wouldn’t have a direct connection to Rerir, and what they’ve seen already has supplied a lot. It sounded like this was before Rerir’s job with the Vinster King.
“He’s a good kid.” Vedrfolnir nods. “Both of them are. Though I guess they’re almost adults now… Time flies, huh.”
A door hinges open and both of the Khaenri’ahns are drawn to the sound. Footsteps– and bickering– drift down the long hallways, and Albedo moves closer to the door, a small smile on his freckled face.
“Vedrfolnir?” A woman’s voice loudly hits Nefer. “Is that you I hear? Don’t tell me you’re here to bother me again.”
Albedo’s hands clench at her voice, and Nefer assumes that this is Rhinedóttir. ‘Gold’, one of the Five Sinners.
“Rhine!” Vedrfolnir stands– and brings his tea with him. “Ah, it’s been a while, hm?” He bends down to address Albedo. “Your brother must be back as well, go along, your master and I will have to chat for a bit.”
“Yes sir, of course.” And with that he’s gone, vanishing into the hallway as another white speck amongst the pale walls.
Nefer feels the faint pull of the memory as it evaporates once more, and even if she could track it… with Rerir being so young still, it wasn’t much use to their group yet. She lets it fade, and rather quickly, it spirals down a sudden change of scenery.
Colors flash too quickly for her to fully see, and she’s dizzy when she spots a dark green haze looming before her. Not unlike the ones in Rerir’s own memories– the ones that led them to Tholindis’ memories.
Nefer lets the new memory wash over the group, and her heart lurches when she finds herself up high on a rooftop.
Stone underfoot, and a glowing city stretching out before her. And two figures sit with their legs dangling off the sides of the roof. Two men, one with cropped blond hair and the other with curly brown.
“Have you proposed yet? You’ve been hoarding that ring for years.” Ruby eyes catch the light, and the familiar– grown up– gaze of Dorian is apparent. And Rerir next to him, the two knocking shoulders on the rooftop.
“We’re…” Rerir hesitates, “still figuring everything out. Tholindis knows I want to… but things are complicated. And how can I begin to even tell her about… everything.”
“You’ll have to, sooner or later,” Dorian says bluntly.
“I know. You sound like Dain.” Rerir sighs and leans back with his arms for balance. “How’s your brother?”
“Quiet.” Dorian allows the conversation to change, but his tone is clipped.
Rerir frowns, turning to face Dorian. “Still? The King’s suffering– I’d think that Rhinedóttir would be busy enough to not be home a lot.”
“Oh, she’s plenty busy.” Venom sickens his words, and Nefer narrows her eyes. “But for all the times I wasn’t there, she was making sure that he didn’t turn out like me.”
Silence. And the sounds of the kingdom below. “I’m sorry.”
“It’s not your fault.” Dorian looks down, clenching and unclenching his hands before he looks back up and smiles, though saddened.
“But it’s not yours either,” Rerir points out, and the two stare at each other. (Nefer wills herself to stop feeling like she’s looking in on something she’s not meant to see. She’s been privy to many memories– this one is no different).
Dorian sighs again. “Sometimes I think it is. Do you ever wish to leave? If the Vinster King was a little less controlling, none of us would have to suffer without any sun.”
“I don’t know what I’d do without Khaenri’ah,” Rerir admits. “I guess I’ll go wherever Tholindis goes. If she wants to leave, then I’d gladly take her to the ends of the world.”
“You love her very much.”
Rerir laughs. Actually laughs. “Isn’t that obvious? I suppose I do. But you also love your brother.”
“You seem intent on reminding me about him.” Dorian glares at the other man, who only playfully shoves at him.
“He’s a bright kid!” Rerir protests.
“I think it’s a thin excuse for saying that you want one!”
Rerir flushes a crimson red at the comment, and Nefer chokes back a laugh. “In a million years– we aren’t even married!” They dissolve into laughter as Rerir pushes again at Dorian, who only shoves back until they’re both struggling not to topple right off the roof.
“Hah…” Dorian catches his breath with a hand on his chest. “You’re a good man. Khaenri’ah is lucky to have you.”
Rerir grows silent, sitting with his head on his legs and facing the kingdom below. “I doubt the Crimson Moon descendants would say the same.”
“They shouldn’t blame you. The king forced the order–”
“--And I followed it.”
Dorian swallows thickly. “You have no choice. We all don’t.”
“True,” Rerir says, though it holds no value. “Maybe you’re right, with the whole ‘running away’ thing. We could go to Mondstadt.”
“Mondstadt?” Dorian echoes.
“Yeah. I heard it’s nice there, very open and green. Away from the central kingdom– I don’t need any more monarchy…” Rerir places a hand on the cool stone beside him, looking down at his hand. “A perfect place for a family.”
“Such a yearner,” Dorian mocks.
Rerir exhales with a bob of his head. “You know me.”
Beams of white-blue light cross sections of the roof, and Nefer’s distracted by the visage of a full moon rising above the buildings below. Almost acting like a sun, if she were to compare. Rising in the east and promising a new day. Or night, since it was the moon instead of the normally bright sun.
“I should get back.” Dorian stands abruptly.
“Already? We’re supposed to meet Dain in a bit,” Rerir protests, getting up as well and steadying himself against the side of the roof.
Dorian snorts a laugh, mirth dancing in red eyes. “He doesn’t like me anyway. I remind him too much of his brother.”
“You’re not that b– he’s older than you!”
“Doesn’t affect the instincts.” Dorian shrugs with a smug grin. “Plus, my own brother is probably missing me.”
Rerir gives in without much more fight, shaking his head in a mock-disappointed way. He passes Dorian, stopping briefly to turn back to the man. “Take care, Dorian.”
“I will,” Dorian says. “You take care as well. Be careful, Rerir. I fear that the king is biting off more than he can chew with these slaughters.”
Rerir stiffens. “I won’t let him go.”
“... I’m not sure that’s something you can control.”
What loneliness. Nefer’s left standing on the roof by herself as the figures fade out of existence. Seeing Rerir so normal was such a shock; the Abyssal corruption must be so painful for it to reduce someone to extremes like Rerir’s. A tragedy from Khaenri’ah’s heart, born from its closest allies. Nefer is glad to have never lived during that time.
Emerald magic alights in the palm of her hand, and she can feel the call of Nod-Krai back in the present. It’s time to bring them all back… but something tugs at her, a resistance that she wasn’t expecting to meet. Nefer struggles to tame it, lurching forward and feeling the fear of her companions as red engulfs her vision.
This… she can handle this. And she does, wrenching control of the memories and separating them from the haze with a strong blast of magic. The red disappears, and she faces a lab again– this time with three familiar people, and the stench of fear is palpable.
“Useless bitch–” Rhindóttir swears, and sparks flash off of her palm, melting into glassware that blue-eyed Albedo holds. He stays still despite the flinch as sparks land on his hands. Scratched and red from what Nefer could only assume was glass.
Movement startles both Rhinedóttir and Nefer, and Dorian lashes forward with his lip curled in anger. “Don’t touch h–”
“Hold your tongue,” Rhinedóttir snaps at him, and Dorian freezes in his tracks. “Both of you are utterly useless,” she vents to herself, slamming down the glass with little care. “I should’ve never let that brainless king force me to give up my experiments… all he wants is protection, wealth– when I have to watch my greatest works tear themselves apart!”
“Master…?” Albedo speaks up, meekly, and with great hesitation. Nefer swallows her panic, a hand covering her mouth as she realizes that this is a memory that none of them were supposed to see. (She thinks she hears Lauma choke back a cry.)
“Shut up.” Rhinedóttir ignores how the blond shrinks into himself more. She puts a hand on her forehead, rubbing the creases from it. “Rerir and Dainsleif plan to storm the castle in two days. Vedrfolnir is locked away, and the kingdom is in shambles– and here I am, still teaching you both simple equations!”
The journal in front of Rhinedóttir might be the most complex case of notes that Nefer has ever seen, and she’s seen a lot in terms of crazy scientists wanting information.
Dorian finds his words again, and they’re steady with a quiet venom. “Creating life from nothing is not a ‘simple equation’, Rhinedóttir.”
“It doesn’t matter,” she dismisses. “You couldn't even begin to handle it– and when I finally thought I had made someone truly intelligent… they go and prove me wrong.”
“...” Albedo shuffles, holding his hands behind his back and keeping his gaze trained on the floor.
“He’s smarter than any of us were– why can’t you just be proud?” Dorian argues back, throwing up a hand and staring down Rhinedóttir. And even though he’s a head shorter, he still poses an intimidating figure.
Rhinedóttir narrows her eyes, wiping the blood– blood? – off her hands. “I can’t be proud of a failed experiment. Clean up the glassware, I apparently have a mission to plan.”
It’s suffocating when she’s there, and it’s suffocating when she leaves. The door to the lab swinging shut with a slam. Dorian heaves for a breath, his chest rising and falling in uneven patterns as he stares blankly at the table in front of him.
“... Dorian?”
“What–” he snaps, jerking back with movement and wide eyes. The man settles. “Oh.”
Albedo rushes to explain, though keeping his words measured and indifferent. “I don’t want to get blood on the glass.” He shows his hands, bleeding from multiple cuts, and dripping blood down his white shirt. “I’m sorry.”
“It– it’s fine. Go clean your hands. I’ll get bandages.”
Though Nefer stands behind Dorian, she can only see the man when he faces the mirror. Ruby eyes with dilated pupils stare back, and Dorian rubs a tired hand across his whole face. Dark bags decorate the bottom half of his eyes, and he picks at them for a bit before giving up.
“This isn’t going to last much longer,” Dorian whispers to himself. “You better have something good, Rerir.”
Dorian slams a drawer shut as he backs away from the mirror, lips drawn tightly. A book falls to the side; papers scattered on the tiled floors. Nefer reaches for it, but Dorian gets it first, picking up the papers and shuffling them together before traces of ink get his attention.
A design, or multiple designs. All sketches of different people, though very messy. And sigils– so many sigils. Circles of runes trace along a person’s back, some of them scratched over and messed up and some of them– the neater ones– clean and detailed.
Dorian drops the paper and stares in the direction that Albedo went.
The vision shatters into a million pieces.
The smell of incense brings Nefer back, and she recovers quickly enough to take in the people in the room, or the lack of. Albedo is noticeably gone, but Nefer can hear the click of her door shutting. If she hadn’t just witnessed those memories, she would’ve praised him for being quick on the uptake after dealing with her chess set.
Durin is next awake, barely preventing himself from falling over as he’s now leaning against nothing. “Albedo–” he meets Nefer’s gaze with wide eyes. “Where…?”
“I’m sorry,” Nefer says on instinct, though quickly straightens and inhales through her nose. The others begin to wake as well, shivering despite the warmth of the room. “Let him go. It’s not like he’s leaving forever.”
“Okay…” Durin still faces the door, like he’s wondering when Albedo would get back. “I feel cold still.”
Lauma moves closer to the boy, her ears on high alert even with her comforting nature and posture. “Me as well,” she says to Durin, and he allows himself to lean against her. “You were one of Rhinedóttir’s creations, right?”
“Of sorts. But I didn’t personally meet her. I didn’t know… any of that,” Durin admits softly. “Only the strange hatred I feel when I hear her name.”
“I never thought she was cruel,” Lumine speaks up, barely heard even when everyone else is silent.
Lauma nods, keeping an arm around Durin. “We didn’t know anything about her. Or the other Sinners. Whatever happened that day must’ve been severe.”
Nefer folds her arms across her chest, keeping from acting huffy. “It caused the Cataclysm.”
“Really?”
“Yes.” Nefer lets the faint annoyance creep into her voice. “That was one of the initiating events.” She tucks her chess set back away in her desk, locking the compartment to fully make sure it would be safe. “We’re lucky to have such information now.”
“But at what price?” Lumine essentially asks what was on everyone’s mind. Durin’s grip on Lauma tightens.
“I– I’ll go find him?” the boy asks. “If you want to talk, I think he’ll come around–”
“No,” Nefer says firmly. “The memories were enough.” She uncrosses her arms, walks around the group, and effectively gathers the group up and on their feet. “We’ll head back to Varka’s, he’ll want to know what we found.”
Golden eyes meet hers with a certainty that belies her young appearance. “And what do we tell him?” Lumine asks.
Nefer already knows, unperturbed by the comment. “That Rerir– along with the other Five Sinners– helped start the Cataclysm that destroyed Khaenri’ah. And that Rerir didn’t used to be violent.”
Lauma and Durin stand near the door, the two next to each other with the taller comforting the smaller. The Moonchanter glances between Lumine and Nefer with a conflicted expression. “Nothing about Rhinedóttir?”
“Other than she’s a dangerous Sinner?” Nefer lips with a raised eyebrow. “No. It’s not ours to share, as it wasn’t ours to originally witness.
Nods are shared among the group, a general agreement that they wouldn’t speak of this event unless brought up again. And Nefer was just fine with that– given, of course, that nobody paid money to hear it.
“I’ll probably miss most of the meeting,” Durin says, holding the door open for a grateful Lauma. “I don’t feel right just… leaving.”
Lauma’s quick to cut off Nefer before she can protest– damn that woman. “Of course. You won’t be expected to come at all. Go find your brother, child.”
“Thank you, Miss Moonchanter.” And with the swish of his cape, Durin departs from the Curatorium.
“I’d have liked to have everyone present at the meeting,” Nefer chastises Lauma, moving in front of the scion.
Lauma’s words are careful, forever in the soft accent she bears. “I do not blame, but it was your set that caused the revival of those memories. Let them both rest.”
“... You’ll be the one to update them after it’s done.”
“Of course.” Lauma smiles, knowing she’s won. But Nefer would never count it as a defeat– just a simple way to invade having to discuss this with her for any longer. The Moonchanter turns back to Lumine. “Let’s be off, Traveler.”