I will never let you fall

Every wound will shape me...

The crack in her sister's voice only drags further tears from her red-rimmed eyes. Eriadne was not one to lay down and accept defeat, and even now she refuses to be bested by this disease now that her mind is clear. But knowing her sister is hurting in any way, even on her own behalf, is something she can scarcely bear. No cure could work fast enough to solve this. She hates that they couldn't succeed, that it's taking a godly intervention to heal those who are sick. Nephele feels inadequate, useless, a failure that does not deserve her sister's emotional words.

She follows after her sister, being led forth by the hands and trusting wherever Eri deigns to lead her. Limp and meek in her grasp as Nephele follows Eriadne blindly, like a blind creature seeking the sun when it feels the warmth upon its face. It's the truest comparison she can conjure. She is the North Star, but Eriadne is the sun. Blinding in its radiance, but capable of imparting so much warmth and security even in these brief moments.

A wretched, wet laugh escapes her bitten lips at her sister's teasing. It's familiar, and she has missed it like a phantom limb that aches with reminding memories. "We're already the best looking here, who else was I supposed to compete with if you were gone?" Her teasing is weak, but there's a spark that is building in Nephele, fanned by her sister's temporary clarity. "Will you braid it for me, when this is all over?" A gesture, a hope for the future, a surety that they will both be there to see a time when such a simple task that they have always done together can be reintroduced to their daily lives. Unimpeded by sickness and taint.

Every scar will build my throne