The Sentinels reunion

@Long Rain !! also assume akashingo has settled into a camp somewhere in moontide lol

darkness clouds the ocean, and racharra sinks deeper into it.
shes snuck out of camp, pouch of deerskin in tow. she's been restless, the ghosts trapped within it have kept nagging her. each shimmer of red and blue — a taunt. they laugh at her. she must get rid of them.

so she trudges through greenery. a burial is proper, where they will no longer laugh and sneer at her, no longer remind her of what she desperately wishes to hide. she hopes, then, in burying them that the truth follows, and stays here.

in her stride she does not realize she is not alone.

Splitting from her band of misfits for a time, it was fortuitous that Long Rain would end up in this exact forest, on this exact night, at this exact hour. She looked up from her own hunt, mis-matched eyes now tracking a wolfish figure through the once-charred trees. Her nosiness compelled her to follow.

After all, it was not often that she saw a wolf darting secretively about in the dark.

she is venturing past protected territory. she knows this. the camp isn't too far, but even that is risky. and yet the girl continues anyways, ignoring reason as instead she falls victim to her own whims.

settling on a spot under dense shrubbery, she drops the deerskin and immediately dives in to dig. blue and red gems escape their pouch but she doesn't care, deepening the hole with each strong swipe of her forearms. they dare to ache, and as punishment racharra only pushes herself further. for while she is a nebet, dignified and trained; she is also bint-zharille, strong and hardy.

she is strong. she is strong. she is —

a fool. a damn fool. instincts finally ring the alarm in her ear that somewhere, someone, is watching her. she stands full height, the grave for the gems fully dug. but eyes bare into her, and she must meet them.

The dancer watched as a hole was dug and as colors of an odd brilliancy flickered in the peering moonlight. She had never seen such a shine before! The gemstones were so utterly foreign, and they glinted like secret eyes in the dark, which surely hers did as the figure at last whirled to confront the spy.

Long Rain was not careful by nature. She stood in the open, head cocked, tail swaying low against her hocks. The other wolf had been so entranced in their digging that it had been quite easy to come this close without notice. The tall girl chuffed. Just curious. I mean no harm. Then, as an afterthought, she tacked on: If you have a shit on it, no one will dig it up.

She smiled as a beam of moonlight lit her face. Helpful, yes?

in spite of her carefulness, a very uncouth stranger now barges in to racharra's space. the nebet shoots up and meets the stranger's gaze.
well.. hello to you too.. her nose wrinkles as the other wolf uses the word "shit." it was the kind of word that would've gotten a stern glare from the adults when she was younger.

wouldn't the stench just bring more eyes on it..? careful, she tries to hide her disapproval of the foul-mouthed girl with a gentler tone. she takes the opportunity to finally see the stranger that had been observing her — too little light obscures what seems to be an already dark wolf, but her eyes bare into the girl now that they're so close. it strikes racharra odd though that somehow, theres a hint of familiarity in the other wolf's scent.

it is only when a splash of moonlight hits the encrouching stranger that the nebet's gaze softens. with a tilted head, racharra squints and mouths "liezhal?"

You examine shits often, then? Long Rain looked amused. She had been hanging around too many strays and runaways to have manners, but there was no aggression in her tone. Only meddlesome trouble.

She noticed that the wolf was squinting at her — mouthing something. Long Rain squinted back, mocking at first, before it quickly became genuine study. She opened her eyes properly and gave the girl an investigatory look. The dark fur, cast silver in the moonlight, did not particularly stand out to her, but the placement of ruddy accents did.

The lost girl took a deep breath, letting the other girl’s scent wallow in her lungs — her memory. I… know you?

another huff is the noblewoman's response to the vulgarities. it breaks her concentration on the others features as she fights to hide a scowl and she doesn't bother entertaining it. however their shared recognition gets the cogs in her brain working a little quicker.

are you liezhal? of greatwater lake? they never used eachother's names, they couldn't even if they wanted to. not while living as primal beasts. but now they — well, herself mainly — have learned to speak.
despite her regalities, the tail that was normally kept at bay now wags.

Practically blind to scowls or any sort of expression that implied dislike, it barely registered to Long Rain that she was upsetting to the other girl’s sensibilities. Despite their familial relationship, they had grown up very different. Though these differences mattered very little now in the face of reacquainting oneself with long lost family.

Liezhal? Of Greatwater Lake?

The lake! This was no longer a conspiracy. Father had always been upfront about where she had been born.

But Long Rain had not heard her birth name since before Tarantula had stolen her. He himself hadn’t even known her name, and she had not been old enough to insist on correcting him when he started calling her something else. Now, she was Long Rain, and Liezhal was just a primal memory.

May be… She shook her head. But you. Her eyes gleamed. I am from a great lake, my father tells me this. The cogs were turning in her head. If I am Liezhal, then you are… Racharra, she breathed. Questioning, then more firmly. My sister.

Her brows rose, though her expression remained somewhat subdued, as if she did not know what to do with the information except think: Huh. Imagine that.

the light that shines in liezhal's eyes confirms racharra's suspicions, and she nods vigorously. yes, yes! i'm racharra..! and you are liezhal! she says in a breath, exasperated from her own sudden burst of energy.

there's a twinge of envy and the guilt that follows it when liezhal mentions her father. a bitter taste simmers deep in racharra's throat, and she shifts in her stance. that's right, it was her father that caused the sister's tear, for liezhal was gifted with a better sire than she was. one that came back for her. 
it briefly furrows her brow, but none of that matters now — the tear the siege for khaba's head caused for the lake has been half-sewn back together.

I’m Racharra. And you are Liezhal.

Though excitement wriggled inside, she felt subdued by a forgotten pang. Long Rain shook her head. I am called She Who Dances in the Long Rain. She was proud of her entire name, not just the part of it she was usually called. It had been bestowed upon her in ceremony, and she kept this memory more fondly than others.

If she’d been privy to her sister’s bit of jealousy she would have laughed. She hated Tarantula and what he had selfishly done to her – taken her! Without a thought as to how it might affect her. Sure, he had confessed at a time he thought appropriate; he’d been honest about everything, down to his reasoning for her kidnap.

But what did that account for when the damage was already done? When she had been ripped away from her siblings, from the wolf she thought was her father, from the possibility of a reunion with her missing mother. He’d done so much damage for so little rationale. A senseless crime and untold repercussions…

I forgot I was missing you, Long Rain admitted. She bent her head forward, tail wagging as she reached to touch her sister for the first time since they were children.

liezhal, it seems, had disavowed her birthname — the last traces of her mother. with great pride too. but the nebet is not offended — maybe she is, but she can't tell. racharra moreso pities her. afterall, it was her and miho who were taken. they had the luxury to at least spend a couple of moments longer with their mother while liezhal and drusk were left behind. 

liezhal — she who dances in long rain — found shelter somewhere else at the very least. she wonders now of the brother who's face is as elusive to her as is his whereabouts.

she smiles then, when her worries are echoed. i've missed you too. and she closes the distance and offers to press a kiss to long rain's forehead and to press their crowns together — a blessing from the nebet of the red palace to she who dances in long rain.

Their muzzles met for a warm, sweet moment. The soft embrace of an unspoken bond. Long Rain inhaled her sister’s long-lost scent, finding it alive with foreign accents of salt and a gathering of canid perfumes that Racharra would know by heart. Beneath that, she picked out buried tendrils of stone and sand and those same others that clung to her skin. She smelled of a home, of a community. And now it was Long Rain’s turn to feel a twinge of envy, a pinch from that green monster.

By comparison, Long Rain smelled of miles and miles and miles. Nothing constant. Nothing too same. She had companions, but their scents had long washed from her over the days she’d spent now on her own. She would see them again, whenever the desire arose – as it usually did after a moon or so.

Kissed upon her brow, Long Rain gave a shiver, feeling absolutely giddy down to her bones. No amount of packscent or travel-weary grime could obscure the flesh-memories they shared. My sister! She knew it without a shadow of a doubt, and her instinct had yet to fail her.

Secret burial forgotten, Long Rain fell into a play bow, just as she would have when they were young, inviting Racharra into a romp.

racharra was keen on the pulse of many things, but she failed to notice her own sister's jealousy. her sister smelled of earth, of travels with no end. much like their mother when she came to retrieve her children that fateful day. its a scent oh too familiar to the girl.


but something less familiar was play — long rain dives into a bow, tail swinging in the air. come get me, she knew what it meant, but she was struck with hesitation.
the last time racharra ever got the chance to play was when miho was still around. even as her younger sister grew bigger than her, the pair would roughhouse away from the eyes of the fellahin to avoid trouble. but after she'd lost miho she was left with none her age, and thus dipped deeper into her studies as a nebet and came out the other side a dedicated noblewoman — yet lonely all the same.

but she leans back, and prepares to pounce. a smile so wide, her pearly whites flash, stretches across her face. her own tail lifts, and waves itself like a flag and announces her own enthusiasm to join long rain in her game.

please tell me if yadda yadda'ing playtime is not okay!

Though Racharra hesitated, the stormchaser did not think for a second that her sister would not join her. In fact, she never at any point wondered if the invitation had somehow been misguided. Long Rain simply did not doubt herself in this way. Especially not when it came to bonding.



The two of them roughhoused and learned one another’s bodies until they were giggling breathlessly in the dirt, sprawled alongside one another in a tangle of legs and tails. You were very stiff, Long Rain observed after catching her breath, non-judgemental in her own head, whether or not it was received as such. But you loosen up quick. You could be a great fighter, sister. Sister. It felt strange to repeat.

dw ur fine!! its funnier to imagine than to write lolll

what was once a playfight became a battle between life and death for nebet — the fun kind, of course, if that's possible. but racharra thought reuniting with her half-sister was impossible, and now she sits here alongside her, playfighting as if greatwater never went up in flames. even as she lays sprawled out, made to catch her breath alongside long ran, her tail repeatedly meets the forest floor with satisfied thuds.

perhaps, for just a moment, the impossible became possible and one day she would have all of her family: drusk, miho, long rain, and mama.

i haven't played like this since miho was around... i can barely even leave my home, let alone fight. the dark girl answers through exasperated breaths. so could i? 'guess i am big for a noblewoman... a snicker tickles from her lips, unoffended by her sister's critique. but you're much better! do you fight often? what's it like?