"Forge keeps a simple source editor and never grows a rich one. The heavy prose work goes to the sibling built for it."
One Rich Editor in the Family
When Pippa assembles a narrative — a weekly summary, a pre-appointment brief — it lands as a Draft. A Draft is filesystem-canonical Markdown, and that choice is deliberate: it means Rekindle, the family's prose editor, can open the same file in place. Forge keeps only a simple source editor for quick touch-ups; it never duplicates a rich editing surface. Advanced prose editing — real restructuring, autosave, document history — belongs to Rekindle, and building a second rich editor here would be exactly the kind of re-invention the whole track argues against.
Same File, Two Editors, One Owner
The boundary is clean because the draft is a plain .md file on disk. Rekindle opens it, edits it in place, and hands it back through the Send/Pull round trip — but Forge keeps ownership of the draft. Rekindle is a better pen for the same page, not a new owner of it. So Dad gets a mature editing experience for the prose without Forge growing an editor it would then have to maintain, and the draft's provenance — which crumbs it was assembled from — stays anchored in Forge where it belongs.
The Pattern, One More Time
This is the same move as borrowing the brain, applied to editing: own the thing that is yours (the draft and its provenance), borrow the thing a sibling already does well (rich prose editing). Every time you feel the urge to build a capability a sibling already owns — an editor, a model, a media archive — that urge is the re-invention reflex. The disciplined answer is almost always to reach across the boundary and reuse, keeping your engine focused on the one domain only it owns.