Khavur's response was eye-opening. For someone who looked outward so often, and only saw the sharp, dangerous, painful parts of themself when they looked inward, to have another being share what they saw of them was like being given a mirror. The Zoisite's head tilted, turning the lines of golden eyes to a new angle as it looked toward the speaking maw of its sibling.

Gracious.

Kind.

And--...

Bearing more than they must.

Was that what was asked of them? Certainly not. Was it something they still tried to do, straining against impossible odds. How fruitless it could feel; how empty they became, scooping out their insides to make room for everything else.

But the Zoisite, again, did not dwell on this. It was acknowledged, a painful reminder of the scars that lined the inside of their carapace, rather than the outside. Instead, it was focused on the rest of what Khavur was saying. That pain was (maybe) different for the two of them. That it fueled Khavur, where it...

... what did pain do to the Zoisite?

"No," it responded. Nothing has been easy, an exaggeration. Dramatic, but promising. The heart was still listening, even if she didn't want to come anywhere near the conversation. "It was still worth doing." It was warmed by Khavur's words: that she was glad to return, to see them, even after all this time.

The Zoisite's gaze followed Khavur's swinging gaze, its own eyes looking out to the pastures that showed cycles of hard work and perseverance.

There was still Labradorite.

Labradorite was... Going to be more complicated. But, the Zoisite had a feeling-- Zoey thought that Labradorite understood too, in their own way. Reaching that shared understanding between the three of them... Likely easier with the Zoisite as a mediator.

... and if it goes wrong...

It wouldn't let that happen.

"Of course, Khavur," the Zoisite promised. "I'll let them know." There should have been more there, perhaps a vow to make sure that it went smoothly. But it was a promise that it could not make itself speak aloud, as though doing so would simply doom the future.

Thankfully, it wouldn't need to. Instead, Khavur's final words made it stand taller, pushing up on its limbs and reaching its head higher.

"You won't have to," that was what it needed to say. And... There was a bit more. Mandibles clicked against one another, and it swallowed. "... But if you do," it added, firm and determined, "you will always be welcome back." Maybe one day, the Zoisite would be the one to leave... That dangerous thought was a flash of lightning in the darker waters of their thoughts. If that was the case, it could only hope that its family would wait for it too.