[ Kaveh sighs, something almost contented in the way he tilts his head into the gentle scratches of claws at his scalp— it would actually be easy for him to fade out of his crowded thoughts and enjoy the tranquility and peace of the moment if not for the continued questions on Tighnari's lips. He knows the other man well enough to know what he's doing, recognizes the gentle peel of layers as the botanist attempts to work his way to the core of the problem.

Attempts, because even in this state— tickled by the barest touches of the alcohol over dinner and lulled into the peace of this moment by the softness of Tighnari's tail and the touch of his hands— there are some things Kaveh thinks he can never give up. And so he takes a deep breath to steady himself, wanting— needing— to avoid the potentiality of getting too emotional and losing control over his words. ]

My father... he was an academic. Rtawahist. He was always smiling, and he had the best laugh. [ With his eyes closed, he can still see it splitting the man's mouth in two, bright and warm. ] Maybe it's because mother is an architect too but he never judged me for wanting to make things. He says— used to say that if people could see the world the way I saw it, it would be a more beautiful place.

[ He pauses, taking a deep, shuddering breath. ]

But he died when I was young. Before I could enter the Akademiya. [ My fault. ] So he never got to see... you know, the Palace. Or anything.