Despite everything, despite the fact that Albedo was the older brother, and Albedo was the one who needed to take care of Nigredo, and that Nigredo was sick-- Despite all of that, Albedo leaned forward, head huddled beneath Nigredo's chin against his chest like a child requesting comfort. Like another time. Albedo's hands moved to grasp Nigredo's shirt front, and as before, he inhaled shakily, breathed in his brother. Swallowed warmth under his tongue.

"I'm so tired," he murmured. A thought in the night, a simple truth come to pass. And it was the first time, the past few days. Albedo had never been one for exhaustion, had never spoken any word of fatigue before this. It was a claim to mortality, to weakness of the like that he had never shown. And above all, it reiterated the strain on his mental state, the pure and simple truth that something was fading.

But still, he breathed, and on his intake, Nigredo's scent was strong, familiar--still sugar and decay in his mouth. This touched on reassuring. He breathed, and held to this sibling.

Like there was something permanent in the moment. Like there was something breaking in time. Like there was comfort, when perhaps there wasn't. Thought would break in a moment, like minds in the night, reform into nothing, but for now, Albedo took relief in the thoughtless silence; quieted in the peaceful ripples of a action long since realized.

Stilled within the only sanctuary left to him.