Lubei
He frowned at her, stopping in his tracks, inclined as though deciphering a particularly opaque yet wordy puzzle. "Pain isn't necessary to remember everything," the demon king said. His voice was gravel and melting snow. "But some things you might forget that you need if they do not brand you, because they hurt, and instead of growing you'll willingly stay the same."
Lubei imagined a black icicle on his palm. He squinted, and envisioned a crack appear on it, which stretched through its insides, but flakes of snow came, and they covered it up, and the spiderweb of scars could no longer be seen. But it was still there, until the day the icicle broke apart, with no one the wiser.
He lowered his eyes to Uria. "There are times when people are destined to forget. I don't know if it is because it gives them room to change again, or because they deserve to reshape themselves without carrying hurt. But it doesn't undo what came before."
Did everything that changed a person deserve to be called a scar? Did scars need to always be remembered, she asked? It was traditionally known to demons that was the point of making them, but looking at the shadow on his shoulder, that idea made his stomach turn. You remember so that you may change, not because you must. Your conscience will not lie.
Lubei shook his head.
"Do you want to eat something? Drink?" He asked the half-divine child.
