Vax'ildan was quiet for a moment, though some muted rustling and the slither of cord over mouthpiece seemed to suggest he'd rearranged himself somehow. He tried to imagine never having known his sister. Not agonizing over the loss of her. Not clinging to every stupid little memory of their lives spent together as if it were all the riches on the world. Just being... Calm, and numb, and ignorant, of every part of her.

He couldn't do it, but he tried.

"I think the question of it - of what I might be missing - might drive me mad," he supposed. "But it's not me. It's you." It was an obvious thing to say. Sometimes people needed to hear obvious things, though he didn't know Angua well enough to guess. "If you decide want it back, the offer stands, is all I mean to say."