After that, no one seemed to know how conversation was supposed to function.
The carriage continued its steady rhythm over the road, wheels groaning softly whenever the path dipped, horses snorting outside in tired intervals, but inside the enclosed wooden compartment the air had altered so thoroughly that even breathing felt intrusive.
Sora noticed it first in the silence.
Not silence itself—he had grown used to long stretches of that around Thalia.
This was a different species of silence.
Before, quiet around her had felt neutral. Practical. Sometimes even companionable in a way he did not have language for.
Now it felt crowded.
As though the words he had already spoken had not left the carriage but remained suspended in the air between all three of them, invisible objects no one knew where to put.
He shifted slightly in his seat.
No one reacted.
He adjusted his glasses.
Still nothing.
He folded his hands.
Unfolded them.
Looked at Seraphine.
She was staring resolutely at the opposite wall with the expression of someone mentally rewriting several prior assumptions while deeply disliking every conclusion.
He looked at Thalia.
That proved significantly less helpful.
She was looking out the narrow carriage window, posture as composed as ever, but there was a stiffness in the line of her shoulders now that had not been there before.
Sora frowned.
He replayed the last several minutes of conversation in his mind.
He had answered questions.
Truthfully.
As requested.
This had apparently been a mistake.
He cleared his throat.
"Did I say something operationally concerning."
Seraphine shut her eyes.
Thalia inhaled once through her nose.
Neither answered immediately.
Sora waited.
This somehow made it worse.
Finally Seraphine spoke without looking at him.
"Yes."
Sora blinked.
"…Can you define which part."
"No."
"That is unhelpful."
"Yes," Seraphine replied. "I am aware."
Sora looked between them.
Thalia still had not turned.
This was beginning to irritate him.
"I dislike when everyone else possesses context I do not."
That got a response.
Thalia turned her head slightly.
Blue eyes met red.
"You will survive."
Sora stared.
"That is not equivalent to understanding."
"No," she said, "it usually isn't."
Then she looked away again.
Wonderful.
Cryptic Hero answers had returned.
He sank back into his seat with visible dissatisfaction.
For several minutes the carriage was filled only by road noise.
Outside, the forest line had thinned considerably now. Trees gave way to broader stretches of open land, low hills, occasional farm plots, and farther in the distance—barely visible through drifting dust—the faint suggestion of white stone structures climbing against the horizon.
The capital.
Still hours away, but present enough to press itself into thought.
Sora watched the changing scenery through the opposite window and attempted to classify the current situation.
Results: inconclusive.
Seraphine suddenly leaned toward Thalia.
Not enough to be hidden.
But enough that her lowered voice clearly signaled this was not meant as open conversation.
"This is a problem."
Sora immediately looked back.
"I can hear you."
"I know," Seraphine said.
That was not reassuring.
Thalia's voice remained low. "Not now."
"Yes now," Seraphine replied. "Before we hand him to a council chamber full of nobles who think with swords."
Sora frowned.
"Hand me is also concerning phrasing."
Ignored.
Seraphine continued, gaze still on Thalia.
"He is anchored."
Thalia's jaw tightened.
"I gathered that."
"No, I do not think you gathered the extent of it."
Sora raised one hand.
"I am still here."
"Yes," Seraphine said. "That is central to the issue."
He lowered his hand slowly.
Rude.
Seraphine shifted fully now, silver eyes pinning Thalia with all the merciless precision she usually reserved for magical anomalies.
"His behavioral regulation, identity processing, and social interpretation are all routing through you."
Sora stared.
Those were certainly words.
Thalia answered flatly. "You enjoy making simple things sound terminal."
"This is terminal if mishandled."
That made Sora sit up straighter.
"Terminal for whom."
Neither Hero answered him.
He was beginning to take this personally.
Seraphine pressed on.
"He does not merely trust you. He is using you as his primary referential model for personhood."
Thalia was silent.
Seraphine's voice lowered further.
"If they attempt to separate him from you abruptly in the capital—"
"We do not know that his response will be hostile," Thalia cut in.
"We do not know that it won't."
The carriage seemed to shrink.
Sora looked from one woman to the other.
Then very carefully said,
"I feel this conversation has become unfairly about me."
Seraphine finally turned to him.
"It is entirely about you."
"I object to the lack of voting rights."
"No."
Sora looked offended.
Thalia almost smiled.
Almost.
He caught the microscopic shift and stared.
There.
A tiny crack in the oppressive atmosphere.
He pointed at her.
"You nearly did the face thing."
Thalia blinked. "The what."
"The less severe face thing."
Seraphine made a strangled sound and covered part of her mouth with one hand.
Sora looked between them suspiciously.
"Why are both of you behaving as though I am a puzzle with interpersonal consequences."
Because you are, Seraphine thought.
Thalia answered instead.
"Because you keep saying things without understanding what they imply."
Sora folded his arms.
"That sounds like a language design flaw."
"It is a you flaw," Seraphine said.
He looked wounded.
"I am accumulating many flaws today."
"Yes," Seraphine muttered. "And unfortunately some of them are emotionally sentient."
Sora narrowed his eyes.
"That sounded insulting."
"It was."
At least she was honest.
The carriage dipped hard over a rut.
All three shifted with the jolt.
Sora instinctively reached one hand out to steady himself—
and caught Thalia's wrist.
The contact lasted less than a second.
Bare skin against gloved fingers.
But all conversation stopped.
Sora released her immediately.
"…Apologies."
Thalia looked at her wrist.
Then at him.
Her expression gave away nothing.
Seraphine, however, looked like she had just been handed further evidence in a case she had not wanted confirmed.
This was getting unbearable.
Sora stared at the opposite wall.
He would now prefer to be attacked by another carrion drake.
At least those had understandable motives.