Maximus's promise toppled over a larger weight than either of them could bare. Relief flooded Khavur's system; although like any anxiety it was prone to reappear, this would be a lasting solace that Khavur would not forget. It felt strange to think that hating Khavur would be out of place, especially for someone like Maximus. Perhaps they did not deserve each other, perhaps caring for each other as they did was not their intended purpose, and perhaps it would take a long, long time to fully comprehend that love does not care for things such as "deserving" and "purpose". Like a form of energy, it has no design beyond the act of being.

Here, they too could ignore designs. Let them burn, be lost to time. Khavur nodded along with Maximus's suggestions. To make peace... to wrestle with the feeling until she could take the suitable action. Khavur was not entirely sure if Maximus still intended to keep her chaotic impulses from surging, if that intention was still driving their words and meddling with the meanings. She decided to interpret it as... not to think of the chaotic beast within as something that took over, but rather a part of her that she could, could... it wasn't control either. All the parts of her could reconcile, that was the word Maximus had used. She could come to an agreement. A compromise that benefitted herself and others. Diplomacy! That sounded like what Maximus had meant. She had done no reinterpreting at all. Diplomacy and communication!

The words of teaching made sense too. The layers sunk into her skin. It made her realize that... she should not have left the zoisite and the labradorite out in the storm. She couldn't have-- well, she should not have put them in a situation where all they did was hurt. Perhaps she could have been kinder, or less forward... She certainly hadn't needed to find more reasons to be angry.

Jealousy, disappointment, wrath... these were emotions that both monsters and people had to reconcile with before acting. Being a (failed) Valkhound did not make her exempt. That explained the guilt.

They were with her, the absolute genius. "What Master of this Nest designed it that way? To have a genius like you stand with and shepherd a..." How to describe herself? She looked down at her claws, flexed them. "...a holder like me?" The identity felt safe, felt meaningful and true, like any name should. Khavur, Holder of Butterflies, was not defined by some abstract action of stealing darkness or stealing from darkness (something they had never done), but rather by a true deed: creating peace with burning branches.

"The next time it happens," Khavur wanted a plan, "I will wrestle it down until we agree. I will not be rash or hypocritical... if I can, I may wander, take the danger away from our siblings. When it is safe, we will grow." This was the process of creation for butterflies.

"Maximus." Both sets of eyes fell on them and a million transmissions of gratitude and love were sent to tackle them like a league of football players. Brutal. "I have one question left." And here, a dramatic pause to build up the tension... "Are you curious about mangoes?"


She offered a hand, preparing to walk somewhere new. To walk to the future. If Maximus wished to come, Khavur would await, and eventually decide to leave a message phrased like a postscript. "I am with you as well. Through mangoes, mysteries, meltdowns... all things. I am your sister." The funniest part was the reason Khavur could even say that. They were bound not by stone, or by magic... what had connected them cerebrally, historically, was Vargas, the very force that threatened to separate them. In every other way, they were siblings by the power of choice, and by promise, which transcended all things.