"You okay?"

The brown-haired woman snorted. "Hardly."

Elanor carefully sat down. "Why? What's wrong?"

Ontic lean back. "Apart from the major guilt trip -"

"We've been throiugh this -"

"-the fact that I'm on trial for mass murder, the death glares I get from just about everyone, and the collapse of what I used to consider my entire lkife? No idea."

"...oh."

"Yes. Oh." She glanced up. "Elan..."

"Forget it."

"I've been trying to."

"Didn't work?"

"Too many reminders."

Elanor mentally went over everything that could be classified as a 'reminder'and winced. "Any ideas?"

"Only staying in here all the time."

"You could."

"Nah. I need to...you know. Deal. Pull my weight. Make up."

Elanor half-sighed, half-laughed. "Tricky."

Ontic half-smiled. "Yes."

They sat in companiable silence. Ontic looked up, studying her sister.

Then she pounced.

Elanor yelped.

"Ontic!"

Ontic grinned. "Yes?"

"Stop tickling me!"

"Oh, am I?"

"You know perfectly well that you -" Elanor had to give up talking in favour of laughing.

Ontic laughed, too.

(A/N: A story I wrote that's halfway decent. Yay.)