'Some talks are long overdue.'

Eleven: Conversations

This wasn't a place you recognized.

It had the same hazy feel of memories of your friends—hazy figures from your childhood, you thought, painted over in warm pastels and haloed by a warmth that only nostalgia could provide. But this was a little different; it felt like the color had seeped out of the world, drained through cracks that hadn't been there before. One of the figures was still blurry, his red scarf a bright, blood-red splotch against the shadowy backdrop—but the other was sharper, and you recognized the face. She had the same horrified expression she'd worn earlier, when she'd attacked you on the training grounds. Skuld.

Ah, a part of you thought, detached. A nightmare, then. Not a memory.

It didn't feel much like a nightmare, though—at least, not the standard kind. But the creeping dread was familiar, something dark and sticky sliding over your shoulders and wrapping around your chest like a vice. It was too close to you, seeping through your clothes and digging underneath your skin, trying to worm its way into your heart, beating like a trapped bird behind your breastbone.

Your arm moved, tugged along by long, shadowy puppet strings. When Skuld went to strike you this time, your Keyblade moved, sweeping with enough force to knock her off her feet. When she hit the floor, she didn't get up, and a sense of déjà vu crept over your shoulders, as clear as the shadows.

"What a pity."

The voice slid through your ears, a whisper and a booming thunderclap. It felt like something was slithering down your spine, cold and twisting.

"So much grief and loss, buried so deep that you can't even remember it."

It felt like you should say something, but your jaw was locked, words dead in your throat.

"It's not so different to the city you now call home, I suppose. But it's truly a shame that you, of all people, would choose to bury us when you were so much more before."

"What are you talking about?" you managed finally, but the words came out whisper-soft, falling limply in the space between you and Skuld.

Light burned—bright, too bright—and you turned in time to see the flicker of a blood-red scarf and the searing, sun-bright flare of light. And then there was just pain, and terror, and—

Nothing at all.

-A conversation was coming that Brain didn't think he could escape—but he could try to prepare for it as much as possible. Which meant that, at the moment, he was sitting at the table with a cooled cup of coffee, dim lighting flickering from the lamp he'd brought closer.

Skuld was curled up on the couch, and the only reason he knew she was asleep was because her Chirithy was hovering nervously around her. It had taken a while, though, filled with awkward half-conversations and frustrated stewing.

Brain breathed out a slow breath, clutching his coffee mug tightly. "I don't want to lose another friend. But I feel like I am because you won't tell me anything." He tapped his fingers against the edge, staring at his murky reflection. Just tell her the truth, some part of him supplied helpfully. Tell her—

(Tell her that you only got out because an almost-Foreteller nearly killed you, and you almost let him.)

(Tell her that you were so lost and alone when you first got here that you might've trusted anyone who offered a friendly word, and then you got stabbed in the back for it.)

(Tell her that the world might be in danger again, and you don't know how to stop it.)

(Tell her that this was your fault, because you should've known better, should've done better—)

(Tell her you're sorry.)

Brain tilted his head backward, breathing out slowly and trying to steady his shaking.

"You should go to sleep, too."

Chirithy. They weren't his Chirithy, but if he closed his eyes, he could almost imagine they were. "I should be doing something more productive."

"Like sleeping."

Brain snorted. "You take after your partner."

Something landed on the table, and when he cracked open his eyes, he caught sight of Chirithy, staring at him worriedly. "What are you thinking about?"

Brain lifted a shoulder in a half shrug, glancing aside. "Just about tomorrow. Or today, I suppose. Not sure what time it is." Still early enough to be dark, at any rate, though he wouldn't be surprised if night had worn closer to morning.

"That's an awful lot of thinking."

He managed a quiet laugh. "I've been told it's my specialty."

"You should share it with someone. It might make things easier."

He tried very, very hard not to look at Skuld. The words slipped out almost without meaning to: "That's a little what I'm afraid of."

Chirithy's ears twitched, their eyes scrunched in confusion. They looked like they might've said more, but Skuld stirred a little on the couch, and they disappeared into a puff of smoke.

Brain stiffened, despite himself, his hands tightening around his mug.

Skuld sat up; she didn't seem to notice him at first, casting one, groggy look around the room, and then another, more frantic one when she apparently realized he wasn't there. He cleared his throat, and she snapped towards him, the panic in her eyes slowly dying.

Brain stared at her, not really sure what he was supposed to say, the echoes of yesterday's conversation still ringing through his head. "Hey."

"Hey," she managed back, her shoulders slumping and expression tired.

"Nightmare?"

"Not—" She broke off, face scrunched. "Kind of," she admitted finally.

He hummed an acknowledgement; he'd have to ask Chirithy about that, he guessed.

"You?"

"Just couldn't sleep." He couldn't quite continue holding her gaze, and directed it to somewhere over her shoulder instead. "Thinking about things."

A heartbeat later Skuld was at the table, pulling a chair out with a quiet screech.

Brain tried to ignore the way his heartrate accelerated in terrified panic, forcing down the urge to try and find a way to duck out of the conversation.

"Brain—" Skuld broke off, worrying her lip. "About yesterday—"

Brain tensed further, his hands so tight around his mug his knuckles turned white.

"I wasn't—I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—" She broke off, face contorting, like she was struggling to find the words to say. "I just—can we talk about this? Please?"

She's your friend, he reminded himself. You can trust her. (But I don't want to hurt her.) "I can—try," he allowed finally, the words tugged from behind his teeth.

Skuld's expression broke with relief. "It's—I get it if it's hard. But—" She paused, looking like she was searching for the words.

Brain waited, half-hunched over his coffee, still feeling wrong-footed and trying desperately to figure out what he wanted to say.

"I want to talk to someone about—about what happened. Someone who understands. And I know something's wrong, and I'm worried. And it's just—" She ran a hand over her face and through her hair.

"A lot?"

"Yeah."

Brain exhaled slowly, then braced himself and asked, "What do you want to know?"

"…Are you okay?"

He hadn't expected the question, but he probably should have. His head snapped up, staring wide-eyed at Skuld, anyways.

"That's—sorry, that's probably a dumb question—"

"It's not," he interrupted quietly. "It's just—" Complicated. Because one friend was here, and that was so much better than things had been before, but now he also had to worry about losing her again, and that they might not have escaped the end of the world like he'd thought they had, and he just wanted to find Ven and Lauriam and go home.

(It was so much easier not to think about it.)

"I'll be fine," he answered. "Eventually."

"But you aren't now."

"Neither are you," he pointed out dryly. "Think we're kind of in the same lifeboat."

Skuld managed a tiny smile at the half-hearted attempt at a joke, but it fell away after a moment. "The council, then," she said. "I need to know what happened between you and them. If we want to actually find out anything."

She was right about that, even if he didn't like it. The logical part of him said this shouldn't be difficult to talk about—he could just pull himself away, stripping away the emotions and laying out the facts so that she had enough information to work off of. It was to find their friends; surely it shouldn't be that hard to get through?

"I—" The word felt like it got stuck in his throat, the rest of them trapped behind it. He paused to collect himself and tried again: "The council—" His jaw snapped shut; his breathing came a little harder, and he tried to ignore how frustrated it made him. "It's—we didn't—"

Damn it, why was this so hard?

Hands wrapped around his, cupping the mug from the opposite side. Skuld gave him a worried sort of look that he didn't know how to reply to.

"Frigga," he managed finally. "I thought—she tried to—" He let himself breathe out slowly. "She was Ephemer's descendant. I thought maybe—" He broke off, suddenly embarrassed.

"…That it'd be like having a little bit of Ephemer back?"

"Sounds stupid when you put it like that," he said with a self-depreciating laugh.

"No, I—I get it. There's another of his descendants—Kvasir?" He must've made a face, because Skuld laughed. "I thought you'd probably react like that—but he's nice. He's not Ephemer, but sometimes it's—it's hard not to see him."

The connection felt like it was untangling a knot in Brain's chest. "Well," he said, "not like it matters much in my case. Frigga was trying to manipulate me from the beginning. So." His voice went quieter as he added, "It's hard to figure out what's genuine advice and what's people just trying to keep power, sometimes. And now—" He broke off with an exasperated laugh. "Light, this really is dumb."

"Brain—"

"I'm worried you'll get caught in it, too." He forced to words out, and they didn't feel adequate. It felt like so much more than that, in ways he didn't even entirely know how to explain to himself. "I thought I'd never see any of you again. Now that you're here, it's—" He broke off, and then his voice dipped quieter—so quiet he almost hoped Skuld wouldn't hear: "I'm scared."

Skuld's hands tightened around his. "I'm going to be careful."

"I know. I know. It's—stupid."

"…You're not the only one who's scared, you know. All of this is so—" She finished with a shaky sigh. "And I get being scared about—you know."

He guessed she did, if their conversation yesterday was anything to go by. "Guess we're both a little fucked up, huh?"

She snorted with startled laughter. "Yeah. But we've still got each other."

That thing in his chest unraveled further. "Right." And then, because if they were bearing their hearts he might as well risk it: "You doing okay with the whole Mimir thing?"

Several different emotions went across Skuld's face, and Brain half-wondered if maybe it was a mistake to ask. "I'll—have to talk to them. I want to make sure they're okay." Quieter she added, "I wouldn't be surprised if they don't want to see me, though."

The grief in her voice surprised Brain, but maybe it shouldn't have. "You want to be friends with them."

"Maybe?" She shrugged. "I want to give them a chance."

It wasn't a sentiment he could entirely relate to—not after everything. It was especially hard to imagine when Frigga had clearly sent them to spy. But if it mattered to Skuld… "You going to want any moral support for that?"

Skuld gave him a surprised look.

"Just figure it might make things easier. But if you think they're trustworthy—well, probably better to have more friends than just me."

Skuld's surprise turned into a smile. "I—okay. If you want to come along—and then you can meet them, too."

"Technically I already have."

"Officially."

"…Kvasir's not going to be there, right?"

That got Skuld to laugh. "He's not that bad."

"He spent a whole day telling me stories about Ephemer. Incorrect stories. He is that bad."

Skuld laughed and didn't try to argue.

Brain's shoulders loosened, something easing a little in his chest. This was…okay. It would be okay.

(Will it?)

(The last time the world ended, you didn't tell anyone soon enough, and look at how that turned out?)

(I can't, I can't, I can't, I don't want her to have to worry—)

(This can't be my fault again.)

"So," he said, trying to keep his voice light, "anything else you wanted to ask about while we're being emotionally vulnerable?" Dread settled in his chest like a weight; he wondered if Skuld could see how hard his heart was beating.

She gave him a crooked smile. "A once in a lifetime opportunity?"

"Once a year, maybe."

She laughed, and if she'd noticed the faint way his voice shook, she didn't comment on it. But her expression turned thoughtful, then almost sad, and Brain braced himself. She doesn't know what I heard—but she might be able to guess something's wrong. If she asks, then I have to tell her. That's how this works.

(Do you really want her to ask?)

"…Master's Defender."

The comment caught him so off-guard that he didn't register it at first. "What?"

"Master's Defender," Skuld repeated, looking at him with a serious sort of expression. "You seem like you don't want it back. But it's yours, so I don't…" She shook her head, eyebrows furrowed. "Starlight feels like it's part of me. If I didn't have it—so I don't understand."

He almost wished she'd asked about something else. (Of course she didn't, she doesn't have the context for it.) "Your heart can manifest a new Keyblade," he hedged. "After a while. It just takes some time."

"Brain."

He worked his jaw. "I gave it to Ephemer," he said. "It makes sense that his descendants should keep it."

Skuld didn't say anything this time, but he could feel her staring at him.

"It's—" The words stuck, and he cleared his throat and forced them out, slow and painful. "I don't…deserve it."

"What?"

He stared into his coffee mug; it was easier to say, if it felt like he was talking to himself, rather to his friend. "It wasn't meant for me. Master Ava gave it to me—but I think it was meant to go with the Book. To Ephemer." He smiled crookedly, and made a half-hearted attempt at a joke: "The teeth are shaped like an 'E'."

"Brain."

He winced, and in his peripherals he saw Skuld shift, like she was regretting snapping. He waved her off absently, but talking about this was…hard. "She thought she could change fate by giving them to me," he whispered, and some of his bitterness leaked into his voice, "but she couldn't. I couldn't. When she gave them to me, I thought—but I couldn't do anything, in the end." He shrugged. "So. Let it stay with someone who might actually be able to do something."

"I don't think any of us could've done anything," Skuld murmured. "The end of the world isn't your fault."

"I was the one who had the Book of Prophecies. I should've known." If he'd read the Book. If he told his friends. If he'd looked at the list earlier. If he'd been smarter, if he'd been better—

But he hadn't been, and now he was here in a soulless apartment, living in the skeleton of a place he once knew, desperately looking for friends he wasn't sure he'd find but didn't know how to give up.

"You don't know what would've happened. You can't beat yourself up over it."

"Think I can, technically."

He'd expected an immediate rebuke, but Skuld didn't say anything for a few moments. "For what it's worth," she said, "I think you deserve it."

His throat tightened and his eyes burned, entirely unexpected. "Agree to disagree, I guess."

The silence that fell was less awkward, this time, and even if a part of Brain felt rubbed raw, the rest was almost relieved. It was like something had eased, a tension he hadn't known was there smoothing out between them. If we're going to do this, he thought, we need to be honest with each other. Keeping secrets didn't work out so well last time.

But—

He flinched away from the thought, leaving it unfinished, breath catching a little, and Skuld asked, "Brain?"

"There's…one other thing." He looked at her, finally, and when he saw her worried expression, it felt like something inside him broke. I can't. (Coward.) "But I need some time. Ask me about it in a few days."

Skuld's eyebrows furrowed, but she nodded. "Okay." And then, quieter, "Thank you. For telling me."

The gratitude didn't feel entirely earned, but he nodded, anyways, and hoped that was good enough.

-The conversation with Brain had eased some of Skuld's tension—it felt like they were at least close to on the same page again—but it only lasted until she reached the Exploration Department. Mimir's going to be here, she thought, staring at the door, and she wasn't sure if she should be terrified or relieved. Or they should be. Maybe. I don't know how things work here. In Daybreak Town, they'd healed injuries almost as soon as they happened—they couldn't afford to be injured, not when they had Lux to collect and Heartless could take advantage of any weakness—but here…maybe they let things heal naturally, if there weren't any immediate threats.

"I was hoping to catch you here."

Skuld started, so caught up in her thoughts that she didn't notice Frigga until the woman was almost on her. Her presence made her tense, yesterday's anger bubbling up in her throat. "What do you want?"

Frigga held up a placating hand. "Simply to talk."

"I have to get to work."

"I promise I'll speak quickly, then." Something almost amused entered Frigga's expression, and it made Skuld want to ignore her and just enter the room. She didn't, forcing herself to stay put for at least a little while. "I wanted to talk to you about our…conversation yesterday."

"There's nothing else to say. Unless you—"

"I wanted to say that perhaps you had a point."

Skuld snapped towards her, thrown.

Frigga looked sincere—but then, she was pretty sure she wouldn't be able to tell if she wasn't. For all she knew, this could be another trick. "It is a strange thing," she said carefully, "to suddenly be faced with individuals from legends. You forget that they were people, and you over-compensate to try and protect yourself."

The words sounded sour, something buried underneath a saccharine attempt at sincerity, and Skuld found herself saying, "You don't act like you think I had a point."

Frigga gave her a sad sort of smile. "I would like to…have a fresh start," she said, "if there's a time you'd like to meet and talk."

Skuld's first instinct was to say 'no'—frankly, she didn't feel like she could trust her to be honest at this point, and it might be easier to just work with the other council members. But they did need access to Master's Defender if they wanted to get into that strange room, and if Brain wasn't willing to take it back… "I'll think about it," she allowed finally, and then stepped into the Exploration Department before Frigga could respond.

She was nearly bowled over by the bustle of activity—people gathering supplies, Keyblade wielders chatting with their team members, a couple of tired-looking individuals pouring over reports. Skuld flinched away from the sound, taking a moment to readjust.

When she had time to adjust, she realized she didn't see Mimir at all, and she wasn't sure whether to be relieved or worried.

"Master Skuld!"

But I guess they're not the only familiar face. She forced a tiny smile. "Hey, Kvasir."

If Kvasir was at all bothered by the previous day's events, he didn't show it; he grinned, eyes bright. "Excited for today's work?"

"I…guess. Where's Mimir?"

Kvasir's expression dimmed a bit, his grin faltering. "Well. I haven't heard from them—though I think Meili might've given them the day off."

Guilt squirmed in Skuld's stomach.

After a moment, Kvasir brightened again. "Anyway, come on! I'm sure they'll be alright, and there's lots to work on…"

Skuld trailed after him, but she couldn't quite get her worry out of her head.

-"Are you alright, Master Brain?"

Brain started, nearly knocking over what he'd been working on in the process. Right. The Heartless detection device. He grimaced, rubbing his eyes. Maybe two nights with relatively little sleep wasn't a good idea.

Sigurd was still watching him, body language worried.

Brain shrugged, attempting to correct his work. "I'm fine."

The room fell into a careful sort of silence, Brain still working on the device, Sigurd seemingly trying to busy himself with…something. Brain wasn't exactly sure what he did, when he wasn't spying on him.

"…Perhaps you shouldn't be working today."

Brain frowned at him, then blinked, and realized that he'd basically undone part of the machine. He groaned, tilting his head backwards and rubbing his hands over his face. "Can't exactly stop," he pointed out. "It's a problem if there are Heartless in the city, right? Especially if it's bothering the council so much." He gave Sigurd a pointed look.

Sigurd fidgeted. "It's not—they won't cause too many problems in a day. You can rest a little."

"Feel like that's what got us into this situation in the first place." Still, it felt hard to focus, and he twisted the device back together without really seeing it. "Don't suppose you'd just tell me what happened to the other islands if I asked?"

Sigurd didn't say anything.

"Figured as much." He wondered if he could get out there and look at them himself. It might give him some clues, even if he wasn't sure it'd answer all his questions.

"It's not really talked about," Sigurd said quietly. "It…happened several decades ago. The last one."

"They didn't all fall at once?"

"Not from what I gathered."

Brain squinted at him. "But you know more."

Sigurd didn't answer him.

Brain let out a frustrated breath and went back to his work.

"I really would like to tell you," Sigurd murmured, "but Master Frigga—"

"You know, this may shock you, but you don't have to listen to her."

Sigurd went quiet, and Brain thought that would be the end of the conversation. Then: "They did it to themselves."

Brain started, snapping towards him.

He still couldn't see Sigurd's expression, but he'd turned like he was looking at something in the distance. "Scala ad Caelum was flourishing, once," he murmured, voice distant. "It took a while after Master Ephemer founded it, but it grew, more people finding it as a sort of refuge. They spread, and built cities on the other islands, and Keyblade wielders saw numbers the likes of which were barely heard of.

"But it was never going to last. Eventually, people started fighting, and Darkness started seeping into the cracks." Sigurd shrugged, not quite looking at him. "I know the older generation and the bluebloods are still scared of it. It's why it's not talked about; nobody wants to risk something coming back."

"Frigga actually told you all that, huh."

"I'm under her employ, technically. She's told me a number of things that most people aren't privy to."

Brain hummed thoughtfully. "So, what, they're scared that the Heartless appearing is a sign of the same thing?"

"…It's not a good sign…" Sigurd sighed, then turned to look at Brain again finally. "The citizens of Scala ad Caelum aren't just excited you and your friend are here because of the legends. Some of the older generation—they're hoping you might be able to protect them from something like that happening again. To bring Scala ad Caelum into a new age of glory."

"And what do you think?"

Sigurd seemed to take a moment to think that over. "I want to believe it," he said, and then didn't say anymore.

It felt a little like a weight had settled over Brain's shoulders—familiar, if not particularly wanted. If it's just a couple Heartless, he thought, a desperate part of him trying to reassure himself, then we can probably handle that. If that's the only threat—then maybe it's okay.

(It felt like he was trying to convince himself more than anything.)

-Mimir wasn't in the nurse's office.

Skuld wasn't sure why she thought they would be. Maybe she'd just thought that their injury was bad enough to require a longer stay—but then again, any nurses or doctors they had on staff probably knew healing magic, too. Maybe it was just her they hadn't been willing to let close enough to heal them. She couldn't really blame them, all things considered.

But it did mean she had no idea where they were.

The best place to ask, she reasoned, with no small amount of trepidation, would be their classmates.

Which is what led to her standing at the edge of the training grounds again, half-hidden behind a statue.

The students were still training, an older wielder guiding them through forms. "Kris, watch your stance!"

"I'm watching, I'm watching!"

No Mimir here, either. Her eyes flicked across the field, to the space on the other side. Where are they?

There were scars on the field from their ill-fated spar yesterday; she didn't know if the teachers had been told why or not. (Did Kris get in trouble? Did any of them know that she was the one who'd caused it?

…Maybe it was better that she stayed away. For the most part.)

She wasn't sure how long she stood there—long enough that her legs ached, anyways, watching and waiting until the older wielder finally released their students. The group didn't hang out on the training grounds this time, heading in a cluster towards the exit. They didn't seem overly affected by things, at least; Eir walked backwards a few paces ahead of the group, talking animatedly about something, another student trying to keep pace with her and failing, a couple more shouting responses. This is my chance, she thought, steeled herself, and stepped closer.

The other students noticed her first, surprised eyes flicking her way. She cleared her throat just before Eir ran into her.

Eir jumped, then scrambled a bit closer to the others. "Oh, uh! Hey, Master Skuld!"

Skuld swallowed tightly, uncomfortably aware of the wary way the rest of them looked at her. "I won't bother you for too long. I just want to apologize. And ask if you knew where Mimir was. Or—or if you can pass on the message, if they don't want to see me."

The group of students grew quiet. Skuld could almost feel them debating amongst themselves, and she wondered if, maybe, this was a bad idea after all.

"It's cool," Kris told her, giving her a thumbs up, and she started at it.

Eir hit her lightly. "Kris."

"What? Oh, come on, she's a Union Leader—"

"That's kind of the point."

"Mimir's probably in their dorm room," someone else told her quietly, expression just slightly wary. "They were told to stay there and rest today. I can give you directions."

"Teacher's pet," someone muttered.

Skuld almost thought it was directed at the student who'd spoken before, but she turned to her classmate, frowning just a little. "Be nice."

Were they talking about Mimir…? Her eyes flicked uncertainly between the students. "Do you know—are they doing alright?"

The student who'd been talking to her pursed her lips, but Kris shrugged nonchalantly. "Probably. Nurse is pretty good at patching people up. He's been here for years, so."

"Probably? You haven't seen them?"

"Uh, no? They've been in their room."

"And they're barely ever in class, anyways," someone else muttered. "'Independent studies,' or whatever."

"Be nice," the first student repeated with a sigh.

Skuld's eyebrows furrowed, and she fixed the first student with a look. "What are they talking about?"

She looked a little uncomfortable, though Skuld wasn't quite sure why—she'd been the one to volunteer information, after all. "One of the professors scouted them soon after they were bequeathed," she explained reluctantly. "They have some sort of 'heart magic.' None of us know much about it, but it means they end up spending a lot of time on extracurricular stuff."

It rubbed her wrong, a little. "Do they spend any time with you?"

The students exchanged glances. "They're in a couple core classes," Eir offered hesitantly. "But, uh, they don't really say much."

"Don't worry too much about them," the first student said, sounding like she was trying to be gentle. "I think they prefer being alone. They've never been very…social."

Skuld thought of a hesitant conversation near the fountain, and of missing friends, and a familiar ache of loneliness opened up. (She thought of herself, back before she'd met Ephemer, friendless and ignored.) "I still want to check on them," she said, trying to ignore the way her insides squirmed uncomfortably.

The first student nodded. "So the dorms are on the school's first floor…"

-"You sure you want to do this today?"

Skuld stood outside Mimir's dorm, fingers flexing as she stared at the door. She didn't know for sure that Mimir was still there, but she figured it was her best bet. "No," she admitted, "but I don't want to put it off, either."

Brain gave her a searching look, then sighed and glanced at the door. "Well. You aren't going to get very far just standing out here."

"I know." She lifted her hand to knock, then hesitated.

Brain gave her a questioning look.

"What if they don't want to see me?" It felt like a silly sort of question to ask, but it bubbled out of her, all the same.

"Then they don't." Brain waved off her protest before she could say anything. "It's their prerogative. It'll hurt, but it'll heal. And who knows? Maybe they'll want to talk to you again later." Gentler, he added, "There's no point in worrying about stuff that might not happen."

"…Right." Skuld steeled herself to knock.

The door opened before she had the chance.

Skuld blinked, staring blankly back at Mimir.

They gave her a crooked smile. "I could hear you."

Her face heated. "Oh."

Mimir glanced uncertainly between her and Brain, then backed away from the door and gestured for them to enter.

Skuld slipped inside; the room was small, just a bed and a desk and a closet, books and papers stacked on every free space. She wondered what they were studying.

"Guess you weren't hurt too badly," Brain commented, "if you're coming to see us."

Skuld knew that was meant to reassure her by us pointed look, but it still rubbed her wrong, because Mimir had been hurt, and it didn't feel right to dismiss it. "Healing magic," she pointed out. "The nurse probably just…needed to make sure everything healed correctly."

Mimir shut the door carefully. They seemed to realize that there wasn't anywhere for them to sit, because they sheepishly hurried to their bed and cleared a space.

"No, it's—it's alright. I don't—" Skuld took a deep breath. "I just wanted to say I was sorry."

Mimir gave her a surprised look.

"I didn't mean to hurt you," she whispered, then paused, face scrunched. "Or I guess I kind of did, but it wasn't—it wasn't you, and it's not like it matters, because it still happened. I'm—"

"It's alright."

That surprised her, and her head shot up to give them a shocked look.

Their face was scrunched up in a funny sort of expression. "It happens," they said. "It—" They broke off and made a face, then gave up with a sigh and signed, "Older wielders sometimes react like that. Younger ones, too, if they've had to deal with Heartless too soon. It happens."

Brain glanced at her curiously; she made a mental note to teach him sign and translated, "They said that they've seen other wielders react like that before." To Mimir, she said, "But I still hurt you."

Mimir looked hesitant, then signed after a moment, "I know. But I guess I should've known better than to try something when you were so worked up."

"You were trying to help." She hesitated, then admitted, "I talked to some of your classmates. They said you had some sort of heart magic…?"

Brain straightened, though she wasn't entirely sure why.

Mimir looked surprised, but only for a moment. They sighed, shoulders slumped. "It's learned. Or, most of it is. One of my professors realized I might have an affinity for it. It's…rare, so they wanted me to pursue it. It's been like…an independent study." They glanced at the papers on their bed, and Skuld couldn't help noting how tired they looked. "It lets me detect hearts. With a lot of focus I can get at people's memories or sooth emotions, but it's still a little difficult. But I thought maybe I didn't need too much focus, if I just needed to break you out of a panic. I need contact, though. That's kind of what tripped things up."

"Translation?" Brain asked, and Skuld relayed it to him quickly. He made a thoughtful noise. "Makes sense. You thought you had the tools to help. Can't blame you for that."

Mimir shot him a surprised look.

Skuld murmured, "Thank you. For trying."

They turned back to her, and gradually their hesitant expression turned into a crooked smile. "But I should maybe try something different next time."

They looked almost hesitant, and it dawned on her, then, that maybe she hadn't been the only one worried about this conversation; that maybe Mimir was worried about driving away one of the few people who wanted to be friends. "Maybe," she agreed with a small smile, "but we can figure it out."

Mimir's shoulders relaxed.

Skuld hesitated, then gathered her courage and asked: "Would you like to hang out tomorrow? With me and Brain."

Brain raised an eyebrow, but he didn't protest, so she thought that might be a good sign.

Mimir looked surprised, and they hesitated for long enough that she thought they might say 'no.' But then their expression broke briefly with something like relief, and they signed, "Lunch?" They hesitated, then added, "Kvasir might come along, though."

She thought about Brain having to deal with him during lunch and couldn't quite suppress a snort of laughter.

"…What did they say?" Brain asked warily.

"Sure," she agreed, and then signed, "It might make things interesting if he does."

"Skuld."

"Don't worry about it!"

…I'm sure that dream sequence was just a normal nightmare…

Anyway, a lot of very needed conversations in this chapter! Brain and Skuld are…well, not entirely on the same page, but they're a little closer to figuring things out.