He looked at her, tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth, memory of her tears still there from when he'd marked her by tasting her. It could have been any number of reasons the tokens fell, and he chose the most favorable ones. Sentimental sister, with her pretty, poetic thoughts. If it was something else he wasn't indebted to consider it, anyway, because those other thoughts would be more or less traitorous. Someone who loves fully has a simple existence; a mother to a child, a brother to a sister. Cayn had only crossed a line today, and to him it meant a deeper kind of love, and not a twisted one.<br/><br/>"Why wouldn't I?" he asked back. There was no darkness at the heels of his sounds now, because he didn't have any flaws in his thinking, the way he saw it. "And why wouldn't you?" he posed. Wasn't he a kind brother? He'd not had anything to gain from being deaf to the sounds that guaranteed moments in their tryst had been her pleasure, too. And if Albert wasn't a problem anymore, then truly there was nothing that should keep them from being secretive and delighted. Perhaps it was a little indulgent, but he could easily reconcile that. "We've always been close." There. Simple.<br/><br/>Her sounds and breaths were stunning, and he felt like a titan for having rendered her like she was now. It wasn't malicious, not on the face of it, but he liked that he'd had such a harrowing effect with his physical visit on her. Maybe anything else would have been insulting, or at least spoken of some weakness in him. Sister dear did not fail to flatter him at every turn, at least not about his performance. He was of an other opinion when it came to her loose heart, though, but they'd talk about that, and kissed about it, too. Her bloodied ring, made to say his name while it dribbled his essence and a little of her life, was a testament to that as well.<br/><br/>His brows raised as he turned to her with the slightest question on his forehead when she'd asked him something, too. Perhaps she'd seen something akin to horns out of his eyebrows then, because she didn't turn it into something that might be her second objection-like point in less than a moment. He was very happy to hear her addendum. Yes, exactly like that. She would be able to see how the nostalgia pleased him. Cayn looked a little coy, too, like he was going to surprise her with something. In reality, would it be a dreadful face for Valeria to see?<br/><br/>If he thought that, he was overwhelmed by her rebuttal. How eager she must be to be close now that they'd found a new intimacy for their bodies. "My room. It's a date." he promised. He'd use that term from time to time, with girls to make sure, and with Val to joke. It would be anyone's guess now, which of the two he meant. He looked to the side and smiled to himself, the way she'd seen him before, when he was happy, and didn't need anyone to know. A honest kind of glee. In the past, as his sister, it would have brought her contentment. Now, when he'd mistaken the relocation for longing on her part - given the new, private venue - would that give her peace?<br/><br/>He came back to her then, beloved, large brother with only her best in mind - selfish man, thief of her security and eraser of every tender moment they'd had, growing up together - and leaned down. He had all his clothes, they where pristine but for perhaps his sweat, and his hair was in a fitting, deliberate looking disarray, while she wore half of what she had coming in the front door, but a little heavier on the inside, at least. He kissed her forehead and stroked her cheek. "You know I love you, right?" That much was true, though something about the flavor of that had changed, hadn't it, Valeria?<br/><br/>Cayn left her room and closed it quickly so she could have some privacy. She did not look descent, exposed and tattered like that. He failed to connect that to himself in any sinister way. He went about cleaning the house by himself, which wasn't entirely unheard of, but definitely rare, especially during lazy summer months.<br/><br/>As the day went on, and he changed his clothes for something less-- memory-encrusted, the real tell-tale would be his cooking. Family oriented Cayn stood by the stove sometimes, but his dishes were simple when he fed his family. When Mr. and Mrs. Orville came home, tired from their supposed restful after-work trip to the walking area by the giant park their family had named their favorite retreat along with many other healthy circuits, they'd be surprised to smell a small feast in the air.<br/><br/>"Well, isn't this something, boy." Jonathan asked as he stuck his head in. Mother would be in tow. Cayn shrugged and put more food on the table. "Where is Val?" Dad asked as he loomed over the potatoes. Cayn dropped his head back, and did something he'd longed for since last he'd seen her, in the sheets they'd bloodied together, and with his scent still all over her.<br/><br/>"Val-ee-ria!" he called. Where indeed had she been? She'd not come to see him once since they'd become closer.