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[nightsung]

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[volkarin]

I've my work cut out for me, then.
I'll see you soon, my darling.

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[nightsung]

[ Dinner drains Shadowheart more than she expects. Emmrich's presence grounds her, always, an anchor even when she's adrift, but she excuses herself before dessert is served, presses a hand to his shoulder to silently confer that he can stay. It's good for them to say their hellos, reconnect with all these familiar souls. She just needs air.

Shadowheart looks a bit wan, whenever Emmrich returns to their suite. She's moved the chair from their vanity in front of the open balcony door, curtains rippling in the breeze; she's still dressed for dinner, but her feet are bare, one leg tucked beneath her as one of her straps slips from her shoulder.

The door opens, and she feels him fill the room. Her Emmrich, her anchor. Shadowheart doesn't get up, but she does tip her cheek in his direction, extending her hand for his. ]

There were twice as many people in that dining room. Like each of us had a shadow.

[volkarin]

[ It'd be a lie to say that the Volkarin siblings are always together, but it's true more often than not. Shadowheart at Emmrich's elbow, Emmrich behind Shadowheart's chair. But they part at dinner, his gaze following her until she's left the hall. He stays for only another hour, making a spare plate — a chocolate eclair and a slice of pear tart, a few raspberries — before taking his leave.

When he enters their rooms, he toes his shoes off by the door, the motion serving as the only pause in his glide across the suite. Her proffered hand is met with his, like second nature, as he holds out the desserts with the other. ]

I felt it, too, [ he says softly, leaning down to press a kiss to the crown of her head. ]

But— nothing malign, I think. Something more like separation. A division of souls.

[ A beat. ]

Perhaps that's what's drained you so, my dear. To have access to only half of oneself takes quite the toll.

[nightsung]

[ Shadowheart plucks a raspberry before taking the plate properly, hums in thought as she presses it to her lips. ]

I'm sure you're right. [ Though there's a small knot in her brow that suggests otherwise, her gaze drifting somewhere past the fluttering curtain. Half of oneself. For a moment, she knows with utter clarity that she's had access to so much less: closer to a blank slate, all her years on this earth wiped clean.

The feeling passes, but it leaves her cold. Shadowheart sets the desserts down on their small breakfast table, hardly touched, and gets to her feet, her hands sweeping up Emmrich's chest to cup his jaw. ]

Should we see about that bath? [ Without her heels, she nearly has to rise on tiptoe to reach him. Shadowheart grasps at a memory, as her thumb gentles in the hollow of his cheek: how she used to ride on Emmrich's shoulders, when he was a teenager and she was still small. There was a trellis with night-blooming datura in their family's garden, and he'd steady her so she could reach the tallest one. Shadowheart can still conjure the scent of them, real as anything--not a blank slate, not a lost year. ]

[volkarin]

[ (In this moment, he thinks: she's always been this small, to him. Easy to take and carry in his arms, to hold — easy, because such closeness is meant to be. Loss had touched them early — which feels right, feels true — but they'd had each other. He'd known, then, what to do. That it was up to them to fill up the emptiness their parents had left behind.)

And in this moment, he smiles, leaning into the hollow of her palm. ]

Quite right, [ he says, gently squeezing their joined hands, ] I did promise, after all.

[ A promise sealed, now, with a kiss, stealing the faint taste of raspberry from her lips, though he's always known her to be sweet.

Into the sliver of space between them: ] Now, I believe you ought to be wearing much, much less.

[nightsung]

[ She's much warmer with him here; the world is much warmer with him in it. Whatever unease she'd felt on their arrival melts into the kiss, and Shadowheart follows Emmrich's mouth for one more, soft and languid. ]

Is that so? [ With a coy tilt of her head as they part, and Shadowheart guides his hand to the row of buttons between her shoulder blades. She needed Emmrich's help getting this dress on, a sleek satin thing, and will need his help again to get it off.

Winding her arms around Emmrich's neck, she arches her back so her chest is flush with his sternum. Teasing, ]

Here I thought I'd get this all wet, so it clings to my skin.