[ it's a common story. the pets in the palace, the slaves in vere, the children gone unprotected from those who would exploit them — there are few words suitable to describe the sort of duress they might've endured for years on end. laurent does not like to think of it, but the boy he used to be and the man he is now bears little resemblance to each other. it might not have been so, under different circumstances, if his uncle had never touched him, if he'd never grown intimate with the meaning of survival. ]

Then, when we go back — [ when they're off of this accursed ship, away from their tethers, once they're relatively safe again. ] You and I will spar and we'll see what you remember.

[ a sense-memory, a trigger, something familiar that might unearth any sort of feeling of recollection, no matter how small. ]

You can always learn anew. [ he's quiet for a long moment before continuing, his shoulders tense. ] I wasn't — gifted with the sword, like my brother was. Even now, I'm only half as good as he ever was. But being half as good as Auguste still means being better than everyone else in Vere. I trained relentlessly. I gave up all my childish pursuits in the goal of revenge, because I knew I had to be very, very good if I was to succeed at it.

[ he closes his eyes, waiting for a throb of pain to pass. when he opens them again, his gaze is cloudy. ] Aza and Wisteria are your tethers? Auguste is mine. And —

[ damen. the man he's supposed to want to kill. that name is better left unsaid. ]