As the black-haired child withdrew, retreating back to a familiar role, he found himself in a state of detachment, a better vantage in observing his elders. He watched them from his peripheral as he abandoned his own prejudices, his waveform fixed upon theirs as though nothing else mattered in the world. And that was the reality of things, was it not? That despite the passages of time, they were everything in terms of existence.

And what he discovered reflected the same. Both twins struggled to find semblance in each other, a conflict that moved distinct and muddled in the same breath. It was Albedo that took his attention first, and on instinct, Nigredo shifted to clutch the back of his brother's shirt, forearm against the other's back. A weak form of comfort to one breaking from another's presence, but he remembered what Albedo had impressed upon:

Love was only one half of the equation. Only one part of the way things move. He wondered if Rubedo held similar sentiments, if he regarded his twin in the same manner. For when he flickered his eyes upon Rubedo, he saw a mirrored emotion.

A fractured, complicated thing.

This, however, was soon tossed aside. To the question Albedo posed, the eldest answered strangely, prompting confusion no matter how Nigredo tried to interpret his words. "Asgard?" he echoed. "Loki's...House?"

What in the world was Rubedo talking about?