From this distance, the boys were just muted echoes of laughter and hushed awe, their silhouettes flitting from case to case beneath the Sanctum’s golden lamplight. Sigyn's eyes followed them for a moment longer before she turned her gaze toward Strange.
"That’s... kind of you to say," she replied, her voice even and courteous, as though still speaking in the careful cadence of diplomacy. "I’ve no illusions about how easily the presence of children can upset the balance of a place like this."
Her posture was perfect, still, but something in the way she held herself—too light, too carefully arranged—betrayed the exhaustion beneath.
"I will make sure they understand the lines that are not to be crossed. I only ask for patience in the meantime. We’ve been... between places for a long while now. Rest has been a luxury." Her mouth twitched, not quite a smile. "And rest does not always mean peace."
She hesitated, then added more quietly, as if the words had to pass through something raw just behind her ribs, "They lost their father. I lost… more than I had words for. But they need normalcy. Some kind of structure. If this Sanctum can offer that, then I’ll see to it they rise to meet the standard."
She exhaled through her nose, steadying, eyes now forward rather than on him.
"I appreciate your willingness to accommodate us, Doctor. I know it’s not a small thing, inviting grief and chaos to share your walls."
After a pause—long enough for it to feel like maybe that was all she’d say—she added, just a touch lighter, a whisper of wryness beneath the practiced poise:
"And for what it’s worth, you’ve already impressed them. I caught Vali trying to mimic one of your spell gestures with a spoon earlier.
Across the room, Narvi pressed his face to the glass around a dark, forked glaive—its twin blades shimmered with faint gold veins, pulsing like breath.
“Mom!” he shouted. “Did you see this one? The spooky one with the glowing cracks? I think it’s calling to me. Can I touch it? Just a finger?”
“Not today,” Sigyn replied evenly from across the room. “Or ever.”
Narvi huffed dramatically and turned to Vali. “Back me up.”
Vali didn’t speak. Instead, he watched the weapon for a moment longer, then quietly signed in their mother’s direction:
“It sings like something broken.”