Velentham's mouth fell open and he groped blindly for the chair behind him. He had listened in irrational rage as his father spoke to Gilean. Now, as he flopped into the chair, he had a new understanding. A new reality to endure. Gilean was his cousin.
Suddenly the extended allowances Telfenham had made on behalf of the lesser celestial was clear. He was doing it for his sister, and for himself. Somehow, Velentham reasoned, his father felt guilty. Both he and his sister had what they considered "wayward" children. Telfenham, he reasoned, was trying to fix what was wrong.
Velentham did not reach out to his father, for through the fabric of the plane, he felt that the elder was bowed beneath the weight of grief. The elder's mind was on his sister, on their family, on their failures. Through this pain, Velentham's anger dried up and his rage slowed. He now understood why his father seemed bent on gaining their reconciliation. He had to be.
Velentham stared into the flames, severing his connection with his father. Better to let the elder celestial be with his own thoughts and not hold the burden of Velentham's too. Velentham sighed deeply. He would have to go and visit Gilean. They would have to straighten this out before they took even a step toward the hells. Velentham rose with a deep breath, and folded reality.
