Shadowwyn Moor moulin rouge

Was Eshe an empathetic?

Yes—when it suited her.

But presently it did not. Presently, understanding anything and everything her sister had gone through would be a detriment and since her sister was none too empathetic herself in the understanding, the woman who had become Quill in a matter of months bristled at her sisters sarcastic response. Pride was a big part of her, but she had shed all of that pride when everything she had loved was lost; what was the point? But it came back, clinging on the shoulders of her sister and diving into her throat. She swallowed it without choking: it was an old friend.

"I... I thought you were dead! All of you!" Eshe had for a fact seen her mother fall and although she had returned to attack in turn, her father had ushered her away. Even despite her age and contributions, the pack who had come to take over had enough profitable seasons to carry with them twenty strong wolves. It was a unique sight, to be sure. And she would have been a guaranteed casualty. "I came back, and then scouted out around the area... I couldn't find anyone. And I knew that my name would just be a painful reminder that I had ran—" granted, that she had ran ensured her survival and her father had prompted her to, snapping at her own heels as the Canyon wolves had, "Maybe it wasn't the right thing," she admitted, "But I couldn't remember or think about it. I can't right now." Her coping mechanism was certainly not the best, but Eshe had never been faced with such a thing before. She had never been taught, and her self-taught method was messy.

Quill was but a ticking time bomb. She hadn't known that, and still didn't; Bhreac had arrived in time to diffuse it.

"I could never really let you go," Eshe understood that much... "I just... thinking of everyone... thinking of..." It was too much, to imagine them at the teeth of those bastards. It was the way of life, sure, but it didn't mean she liked it very much. "Whatever. Never mind. I never thought I'd see you again, I never thought it'd matter," It didn't make it any better or easier to swallow. It was something she thought she had to do. Eshe still understood her own process. Stuck in the stage of denial, in being nothing, and belonging to no one. Untethered by that bloodbath of a past and free to exist as though nothing were wrong.

It would've driven her crazy, but she'd never be able to find out now, would she? So she thought it perfectly sane.

Perhaps Bhreac was braver than Eshe for it. Eshe would not have been able to stand life with the Canyon wolves... but of course, she had come to an immediate conclusion where Bhreac had at least belief on her side. Eshe thought herself a realist. "It was the only way I could go on..." which she had done for their family, despite dropping the name. In a sense, her loyalty remained.