[b]Aevum:[/b]

The trail doesn’t end at a bamboo grove, but that is its real destination. The bamboo is misted by a flowing creek, water soaking into porous stone below, and the bamboo grows from that stone. It’s a clean, smooth place to sit, and at the heart of the grove the bamboo is thick enough to obscure all sightlines from the trail above.

A place to stop, or start heading back.

Crystal takes the promise to think about it in stride. “I trust whatever decision you make, it’ll be the right one. Clearly, you’ve proved you know what you’re doing.” Her eyes flicker to the horizon again, and then back to Yellow. “Still, if I could chalk success to any one thing, it is in acting as if the world was how I wished it could be.” 

Fiona snorts a laugh. Crystal side-eyes her. 

“No, not… that.” Fiona smiles self-consciously. “Just. If the world you wish for is the Count of Monte Cristo, and the station’s named after Paradiso, I was thinking for the name of the book-” she braces herself for the reaction. “Dantès Inferno. Because the protagonist in Count of Monte Cristo is also… also named Dantès.” 

“Scupper the idea entirely.” Crystal declares. “That is too cute by half.”

[b]Thrones:[/b]

Nepenthe takes it all in. “I understand.” She says. Does she? Too many have said that and been wrong. Dad most recently. 

“I want you to know that you’re safe when you talk to me. I will never tell anybody else what you’ve told me, unless you ask me to. I will never use anything you tell me to hurt you, or use it against you in any way. If I use what I’ve learned to try to help, it will only ever be in ways you agree are helpful. There is nothing I could do ‘for your own good’ more important than making sure you know, without any room for doubt, I am no risk to you. And if you ever need to talk to someone, about anything at all, at any time, then Singh will give you my number, and you can call me. I’ll be awake.” 

It could have sounded scripted, a therapy program. But she doesn’t ever use words like ‘trust’ or ‘confidential’ - it’s just a direct response to what trust means to Black. 

Singh leans on the handrail. He’s been very quiet, until now, letting you forget that he’s even there. “It wasn’t what I set out to do, but there’s a kind of beautiful symmetry here.” He says. “That if anyone can help Goat, I think it would be her. If you want to keep talking to her for a while, I can go for a bit of a walk. Just don’t start Goat without me. I want to be here, for that.”

He passes you a handwritten phone number on a scrap of paper.