It was a satisfactory explanation. Krem ran his fingers over the twists of metal, a slow track of them. His fingers bumped up against Gannicus's, and he let them, lingering in the soft touch.

There were marks on the insides of his arm, symbols important to Gannicus, and to Hild, for the relation to their peoples. He could appreciate that. His body had slowly become a canvas of these things, of these remarkable people that shaped his life. How quickly he became so tangled up. So twisted. Stronger that way.

He set it down on his knee, and then laced his fingers with Gannicus. "I--thank you." The words seemed disingenuous. "I might wait for an occasion to wear it?"