"Do you think... she'll want to move away?" Arkai asked.
Dinner had passed, a quiet affair without Cecilia's laughter to fill the spaces between bites, and the three brothers had eaten until they were full, though none of them could have said what the food tasted like.
Oathran lay stretched across the length of the sofa, his mist-grey eyes fixed on the ceiling, tracing the familiar patterns of paint and plaster he had memorized over years of living here. "It's her right if she wants to move away. She... has her own family now. Crazy that it all happened, but still."
"Even if she moves away, nothing will change between us, so I'm kinda fine with it..." Eastiel sat on the rug, his back against the long sofa, his lion tail curled around his own ankle. He said the words like he was trying to convince himself.
