[Experimenting on powered people. Markus feels his insides twist at the idea for multiple reasons — the inhumanity of it, the idea of placing the wishes of a single individual as more important than another’s wellbeing. And that Ophelia’s transition into her humanity would be one in which she would wield so much; too much. A mind still leaning into self-discovery, equipped with that kind of power — Markus can’t imagine it. Like being given a blade without knowing of the consequences of carving someone in two.

But he makes no remark on that. Again, he doesn’t interrupt. And again, he judges the changes in Fitz’s tone, where he pauses and where he stumbles. Where defense flares up for the sake of Ophelia, even if it means he offers himself up to the altar of blame and self-deprecation once more.]

What she chose. [—comes the quiet echo. The word that all of this seems to hinge on, the conversation pivoting on the idea of conscious choices and the consequences of them. Of having power over your own actions, versus these same actions being influenced by outside sources.]

You give her agency, but then you’re quick to take it back by placing the blame of her other choices squarely on your shoulders.

[The one thing worth pointing out, worth mentioning in its strange paradox of itself.

But because it feels like a story unfinished, loose ends still dangling, Markus adds nothing else just yet. Only an even push forward.]

What happened to her after that?