Orifiel’s head leaned back, bare skin touching the tree. Orifiel’s mouth opened, then closed.
“You know each other?” Bri was aware enough of the atmosphere to keep her voice quiet, waiting for Malak’s judgment.
“Orifiel… has never seen the present before.” Malak’s explanation stuck in their throat. Those eyes which now shifted, black pupils contracting smaller than they had ever been, colour threatening to blossom over the whites around them. “Orifiel, do you hear me?”
The recognition held no feeling within. Malak did not feel dread, hadn’t felt such things since their fall. Discomfort, however, had become a regular companion. “Orifiel, what happened to you?”
There was no answer forthcoming.