[ Younger brother, huh. No wonder he'd stayed up there on the mountain with them once they'd mentioned a brother. It's a bittersweet thing; their expression softens slightly. ]

You should tell him they're special stones, and only the most special people can eat them.

[ But they listen with a quiet, thoughtful look, nodding in understanding. Truly, they completely get it. They don't have anyone waiting for them--not anyone who cares, anyway, but with a family to get back to... they'd feel the same.

It resonates with them, that staying on edge isn't any good. Vulnerability is something they've never embraced or allowed themselves. The thing inside them would completely consume them if they did.

The thing is, though, that it's not as easily stirred. They don't know if it's this place and the fact that their power is dampened. Like hell they'd complain; maybe they can start, little by little, to let themselves breathe. They spend so much time looking over their shoulder and to things that have yet to pass.

Tartaglia pulls his hand away, and their hand is a little colder. They reach out to take the fruit parfait, and a ghost of a smile touches their lips. ]

Maybe I should do that, too. [ a pause. ] Being on edge all the time is exhausting, and I can't think of a better place to let myself breathe.