"I expect there will be other things to design by then."

"Fair enough. How does it work?"

"Spell design, you mean? I'm... not sure how best to summarize the three-thousand-year education."

Tysathra laughs. "No, I suppose that is like asking to capture the ocean in a thimble, isn't it."

"Yes, a little."

"Perhaps the - equivalent of what water is would be easier to capture and explain? How does the fundamental logic of pain powered magic work?"

"...Pain creates power that can be picked up the same way as ordinary magical power, although it's much stronger and wilder and harder to hold onto. It's almost impossible to make it into structured spells or artifacts; easier, though not easy, to use it freeform. My father is amazingly good at building structured magic from pain."

"Congratulations to him," says Tysathra, a little wryly.

She smiles slightly.

This earns a matching smile. "Is it dangerous to learn?"

"Somewhat."

"Pity. I might like to, but not at the potential risk of failing to keep my promise. I imagine you or your father will finish something to keep me from accidentally killing myself in my zeal, I can wait until then."

She nods. "Sensible."

"I can resemble it when it suits me," she says, amused.

Irikaino smiles.

Tysathra smiles back. She thinks she likes having a friend.

Elsewhere, someone has graduated from crying to grumpily cuddling in a blanket nest.

There's a knock at her door.

Well, that's itself. Explaining herself seems like it would be unpleasant. Attempting to lie to him seems like it'd be worse, not because she's afraid of what he might do (though she is, a little) but because she'd be doing something awful to her relationship.

Maybe if he comes in he'll hold her, though, and that's always nice. Even when she's miserable.

"Come in," she calls, slightly muffled.

He comes in.

"Well. You look very pretty today. Do you want a hug?"

"Yes please," she mumbles, smiling a little at the 'pretty' comment.

He goes over and sits next to her and hugs her. He doesn't ask her what's wrong.

Not being pressured to explain herself gives her the bizarre urge to declare that she loves him.

She doesn't do that, because depression-fueled love confessions are not what healthy relationships are built upon. Even if this thing she has with Serik isn't going to be normal, she can at least attempt to make it not as fucked up as it could be.

Instead she just snuggles him, and it is very comforting.

Quiet cozy hugs.

"... I should probably have some kind of food and water in me," she observes. "I um. Sort of haven't had anything all day."