[wip~]

This was better.

It was unfortunate that Song could only be silenced by way of silencing Lucky. Talking with him was pleasant and productive, but the necessity to account for the terrible conscience he always carried was frustrating at times. This was one of those times, but she'd solved it.

The grass was still damp from the brief shower of rain that passed over the island, and the wet earth felt cool against her knees as she knelt beside her partner's - brother's - unconscious body. She watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, slow and devoid of the erratic panic that held his breathing hostage through all of her lies. Song had retreated into the form of a rabbit's foot, and Mimsy curiously wondered if she was still trying to speak to him, to worm her way into his thoughts even now. But the parasite couldn't reach him, surely, and she felt as if she had found the one method of solace and normality.

It was better this way, when neither of them could influence the point of origin. It was a blank slate, and only one of the two of them had any power over him here. The ability to write all over this empty page was hers alone.

She smiled at him, the proud kind of smile that she gave to inanimate projects that went as planned, and opened the book in her lap. It spoke of destruction, as it always had, and she listened, because it failed to steer her wrong. This was all working in her favor, and she would continue to deconstruct everything until it could be recreated with proper purpose. Some would be more difficult to break, like Song, but her determination was stubborn. She could wait a year or a decade - over two decades, in the case of Clerise, but she would ultimately succeed.

The smile grew wider as she leaned forward to take his left hand, holding it between both of hers, each thumb brushing the unmarred skin there. A cursory glance towards his other hand proved that the circular mark was still there, uncovered. Hers was not worn with the same insinuation of pride. It was a reminder of a mistake before it even healed, and a reminder of a troubling identity now, with the addition of those two crooked, intersecting scars.

A reminder. Her smile showed an uneven amount of teeth as her thumbs pressed against his hand, leaving pale marks that gradually faded. She could leave a reminder. One that wouldn't fade.

With focused care, she held Svensyl in her left hand, clutched firmly near the blade, and spread his hand out on one flat page of the book. She bit her lip in concentration and steadied the ancient tome with the side of her right arm, hand curled around his wrist.

"We made a deal," she murmured, pricking her finger with the tip of the sword. Svensyl was sharper now, and had begun to resemble a more surgical shape, but her shield still prevented any blood from surfacing.

"No, not this deal. It was before this. Before Song claimed you. Before Robert. Before we were siblings, or rivals, or lab partners, or a Bard and his Alchemist." In the pause, she pricked his thumb. It responded with the typical biological response, because Song couldn't save him now. She smudged it off of him when the bleeding slowed, and dabbed a single fingerprint of his blood next to Clerise's on her coat. A second badge of honor. "I know you do not remember the kingdom, but I do. And now you see me with a crown on my head."

She tested the resistance of his skin (as she had learned to do) and stopped short of cutting into it, shaking her head as if he'd said something in response.

"No. I cannot fathom why there is a crown there. I see no correlation between this and that kingdom." I see a correlation that I don't want to believe, which she somehow couldn't voice to an unconscious body.

"But you need not concern yourself with that at this moment. We made a deal, remember? I can remind you, if you don't. Sometimes I find myself doubting that you do, but now I can be certain that it will not slip your mind. Pacts are of great importance. Breaking them just because your new partner tells you to is foolish. Incredibly disrespectful."

Just as the sword cut into his skin, she withdrew it and drove it into the rabbit's foot that lay near his circle-branded hand. As it was a rabbit's foot, and nothing substantial, it did nothing but get the fur a bit muddy. She cleaned the sword against her sleeve and returned to what she was doing.

From a distance, she may have appeared to simply be hunched over the book in her lap. She'd leaned down to ensure her precision, eyes squinting behind thick lenses as she began to work. It was too slow to compensate for the speed at which the blood began to surface, so she made a note to practice to increase her efficiency.

One straight line, ending in a teardrop.

"Hm?" She stopped, warm blood pooling against the fingers she used to steady his hand. It took a lot of effort to distract herself from it, to avoid carelessly seeking more of that warmth, but she managed. Barely. "Oh, yes. I can offer a verbal reminder. I believe I can focus on both at once," she thoughtfully replied to whomever had not audibly asked, words betraying a shaky confidence.

"It was almost over; do you remember? I am sure that we seemed more similar then, before it all." The blade passed steadily across his hand again, leaving another thick, straight line, ending in a curve. Almost a backwards 'J', placed parallel to the first. "In spite of all that I forgot, I knew that it was best to wait it out, to take advantage of the panic and pride to hide myself as I worked to find the right solution - did you? Were you afraid, even then?"

As if to offer some kind of comfort, she rubbed her thumb over his hand, grazing the incision, smearing rich red stains all over it. There was no change in the unconscious sibling's body or breathing, but she tilted her head and faintly smiled as though she had managed to cheer him up.

"I suppose it doesn't matter, no. I should avoid deviating from the topic of importance. I will attempt to keep this as simple as I can."