[viktor eases a little, maybe still a faint twist of guilt at his involvement but that feeling is ultimately a useless one for the situation. instead he nods, lips thinning to say,] It is absolutely dreadful. Palamedes has mentioned it but I did not quite understand until I... felt it, i suppose.

[through a memory, through ortus' hands. through ortus' life, as though it too were a book to pluck pages from.

he resists the urge to sigh, his gaze falling to ortus and his own apology back. he frowns, hesitant only a moment before saying,] You have done nothing that needs forgiveness, I assure you.

[another small beat and he says,] I have often found it difficult to share stories of my childhood. Even the fonder memories, the quieter ones, tend to have an unpleasant undercurrent that is... difficult to avoid. It does not make those memories any less meaningful, simply more complicated.

[he hopes ortus may understand that feeling, as much as he wonders after the memory he just saw.] If you wish we can simply never speak of this again.