resolution

"Hm? What's that?"

Mythra's finger under her chin? Nia's not complaining. But right there...well, "That's...from when you woke up. Obrona."

Mythra nods contemplatively and shifts to run their thumb over the thin, shallow mark instead. "That was so long ago. You never healed it?"

"Didn't want to," Nia says, shuddering. "Since Vandham..."

"Yeah. Sorta wish I had one too."

Now thumb on jaw turns to palm cupping earlobe, and then more than that. Nia's still not complaining. Mythra tastes clean. Healed, even.

Alive.

What a very long, queer journey from where they had been in that faraway moment.