Moonspear the problem with potions

Alya was observing some of the oldest bones when Hydra arrived, fondly remembering their venerable father, and all the violence he had encouraged in them. He had not been a perfect man — far from it — but Alya loved him all the same. How could she not, when his own imperfections had knit themselves into her bones in the womb?

I think, said Alya, still not turning to face her, and instead leaning her warm body into her sister's firmer musculature, that this will be a long trip. And, with your blessing, I hope to return... not entirely by myself.

There was conflict in her blue eyes when she turned to face Hydra; for she loved Nikai like her own blood — and this, she sometimes thought, was part of the problem. He was a friend to her. Almost like a brother. And he was so kind. So gentle.

I want my children to be strong, she said, her voice small and broken. To make us proud. I know it is not our way — but isn't it? Is it wrong of me to repeat his mistakes?