Day 57: Greenhouse (third shift)
So speak of the day's events as one would speak of the week. They hadn't parted ways, yet, and despite the growing annoyance in Albedo's mien, he had no thoughts to separate from Nigredo. Though, speak plainly, and Albedo wouldn't--not if people were around as much as were seen. He spent a moment in irritation, considering, then decided to flee the normal haunts to move outside--to a place he'd prefer against otherwise. Nigredo's wheelchair came to the end of the hall, and then his brother attempted to walk outside. An attempt that near failed halfway, and Albedo took the weight of his sibling without a word until they were inside. The heat was a sharp contrast, greenery and pastels to snow and white outside.
And now. Where to begin? On the night prior, or on their strange business with the woman? On Nigredo's reaction to that night, or Nigredo's denial of emotions Albedo would have preferred never to say. None of it, perhaps; a slip and a slide and he could let it all go forever, never to be spoke of. Yes. He could.
The boy wandered briefly, left Nigredo at a bench and table for a minute before looping back around. He stood there for a moment, then seated himself across from him. "Grant me a boon--" And then, less false in tones. "Answer me a question."
He stared at wood and organics, at a leaf of something unknown that could be familiar if he let it. To speak opposite to mistakes, Albedo nearly quoted his brother's words; something burned into him to not yet be forgotten. "You said... 'I can't be without you. That's why, that night--'" He glanced up at his brother, something inexplicably tired in his expression, something closed and old. Separated. "...That night what?"
And now. Where to begin? On the night prior, or on their strange business with the woman? On Nigredo's reaction to that night, or Nigredo's denial of emotions Albedo would have preferred never to say. None of it, perhaps; a slip and a slide and he could let it all go forever, never to be spoke of. Yes. He could.
The boy wandered briefly, left Nigredo at a bench and table for a minute before looping back around. He stood there for a moment, then seated himself across from him. "Grant me a boon--" And then, less false in tones. "Answer me a question."
He stared at wood and organics, at a leaf of something unknown that could be familiar if he let it. To speak opposite to mistakes, Albedo nearly quoted his brother's words; something burned into him to not yet be forgotten. "You said... 'I can't be without you. That's why, that night--'" He glanced up at his brother, something inexplicably tired in his expression, something closed and old. Separated. "...That night what?"