It’s 3:45 a.m. when Knight feels Sigmund give them a stir.
Far left castle door. Baby.
The urgency in these echos is clear. Despite being on the opposite end of the castle, Knight books it. The clanging sound of his armor seems dampened, a barrier of soundproofing following them so as to not stir the other occupants.
Ruthless is standing at the doorway, xer back to Knight. Her shoulders are tense, his bag is slung on xer shoulder.
A lighter rests in her palm.
The only noise between them is shallow breaths, and hiss of gas and flame and Ruthless flicks the lighter on and off.
“Ruthless,” Knight’s whisper breaks the silence.
When Ruthless turns around, her brow is furrowed, his face is red. The feathers and hair that dance around the edges of xer face are a mess.
There are tears in Ruthless’ eyes.
Not very many people know why the Triumphants stopped talking. When Baby arrived in Chicago she was a burning flame, and people could only assume it was something horrible that severed the godslayer and their sibling apart.
This was not the case.
Though the only people who can recall the conversation are the siblings, and the castle which gave them a loving home, the words do not matter.
Their last interaction, for many, many decades, would be this conversation.
By the end, Ruthless would wipe the tears off on her jacket sleeve.
Knight would rest a metal hand on their siblings face one last time.
Ruthless’s jacket would be zipped up, and smoothed out by her sibling just like they did when xe was a kid.
Knight would say goodbye, tell xem they loved her.
And Ruthless would turn away.