The Weight of Legacy

As she stared at someone’s door yet again, Malwine had half a mind to yell at herself for feeling nervous about how to approach the matter, despite having literally just now tested the effectiveness of her social Skills. It honestly didn’t help that her conversation with Anselm had happened long enough that she wished she’d taken enough notes to just resume it just like that and—yay, I’m getting sidetracked again.

If there was one thing she’d undeniably enjoyed about her short time with Thekla, it was how comforting it had been. She’d been able to—for a little while—just talk to an aunt without really wanting anything. Without any long-term goal.

It’d been fun. And that honestly just made her mad about how things had turned out.

Malwine shook her head. She’d been over this already—there was nothing she could do at the moment but wait… and annoy Anselm in the meantime.

Details of their talk on the past The Harvest were blurry at best, the shock of how he’d spoken of her grandparents and Beryl still something she hadn’t fully processed even now. The idle thought of getting some kind of memory ability down the line crossed her mind before being dismissed with prejudice. She liked not remembering every dumb mistake she made, thank you very much. Especially when it came to her interactions with people.

Oh, right. It struck her then, just why she found herself worrying. Aside from his words on her mother, last time she’d poked her uncle for information, he’d all but accused her grandparents of implicit genocide without so much as batting an eye. He’d also made it sound like that wasn’t all. Just what would she find out about Otto if she did get answers about him today? I mean, the bar’s low.

She was already operating under the assumption that her family was full of assholes anyway. It was just a matter of trying not to lose her faith in humanity over it, because someday, she just knew she’d find an ancestor worth resurrecting. Katrina could keep sitting in her inventory for all she cared, until she found a reason to revisit the matter of that obit.

“Uncle Anselm?” Malwine knocked on the door after taking a deep breath. She’d considered sending a double of herself over, but that had seemed risky—she did recently develop the concerning habit of actually hugging her family members like a normal person, sometimes. Not to mention, having her double walking about while she was in the same building would have been extremely hard to explain if anyone noticed. “It’s me, Malwine.”

The more belligerent part of herself almost wanted to cringe as she said that last part—the widow had always found that sort of self-identification somewhat superfluous. Of course he heard her voice, so who else would she be? Then again, with all this recent Skill usage, she might have been overthinking it.

Anselm answered the door surprisingly quickly, looking down to meet her gaze. For what might have been the first time in her life, she saw her uncle wearing a tunic and pants instead of just some variation of a robe that looked like he might trip on it at any moment. “…Hello.”

Before her brain caught up enough for her to say anything, he motioned for her to enter, holding the door open. Malwine raised an eyebrow, but followed a moment later. She hadn’t even needed to explain herself, as if he’d almost been expecting her.

Malwine had only seen his little part of the estate that one time, but her uncle’s would-be foyer seemed surprisingly less disastrous now. His piles of nondescript furniture were nowhere to be seen this time around—she kind of wondered where all that went. Between that and the outfit change, maybe he was up to something. Hopefully something positive.

Curious, she identified him as they sat.