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They could've stayed like that forever, Severian thought, hidden away from the bruising, eroding winds that lambasted the rest of time, here in the lowest levels. Play-acted at a life above his standing, dressed up in her rich hides, sunken in chambers where the fuligen of the guild was a mere fairy tale. Valeria would think him some imaginative storyteller, the vivid sufferings he could elaborate. She'd find it another eternal waiting, frozen alone together, twin dying suns the center of each other's visions, hoping he could learn to breathe in waters other than the deliberate, merciful wrenching of flesh.