[ Tucked into his side, Kizuna is quiet as he listens, the overlay of memory and the resonance of his emotions painting a fuller picture with every word. Kizuna is adept at connecting the dots, drawing gentle lines between the memories he'd seen with what Wriothesley tells him, a little more light shed upon him each time. Betrayal and heartbreak, loneliness, exposure, resolve. Retribution enacted with hands too young, but not young enough to escape its penalty. He remembers the feeling of his Vision pressed to his palm, the chill and the weight of it, imbued with aspiration simply waiting to be unleashed. A will made tangible. It pairs so well with a compassion hard-won. ]

The stars have a way of putting everything into perspective. [ Time, especially. An enormity that was capable of absorbing anxieties. ] They were waiting all that time for you to be able to look up at them.

[ Wriothesley might be looking up, but Kizuna's gaze is pulled aside by him. His arm eases around his back in a similar embrace. ]

And now look, you have a memory of them worth sharing.