Broken Antler Fen well I'mma go down on a railroad track

The silence came back, briefly, painfully. When broken it had the effect like dropping a fine china plate on pavement: adrenaline-inducing dissonance.

He sought her gaze with his. Ibis almost couldn't match it. She needed to think, and thinking was hard for her right now.

They're not yours. She murmured, shrinking.

How presumptive of him to think he could come back, like he hadn't abandoned her, and be a father to her children. It was all that she had wanted and begged the universe for; someone that would be there for her, love her, never be without her.

Ibis knew her initial reaction was borne more of shock than anything. She loved Akavir deeply, maybe obsessively; at least, the idea of him she had pieced together after he had gone. The version she had mourned for his absence, who she continued to idealize despite how he stood here, before her.

How was his suggestion any different than the trick she had already pulled? Lilitu, Arielle — the very daughter he had hunted the wilds to find, who he came crawling home to, ready to reunite and protect — weren't his by blood either. Was it right to perpetuate the lie?

He had a right to know. To make the decision with everything exposed.

None of them are.