Shadowwyn Moor moulin rouge

Bhreac's immediate refusal caused Eshe to very nearly break.

"Don't!" Her yell was low in pitch and she moved to round herself and block a path she had nonsensically perceived her sibling might take. "You can't leave now," she breathed, taking a tone in which she had never used before. Was she... pleading? In her own way, perhaps. "You were dead. I couldn't think of you, I couldn't, not without believing that first..." And it was something she refused to believe, yet had accepted, thus adopting the name "Quill". Eshe was a strange bit of work. As far as protecting her new pack went, she bristled at the dig.

She too had participated (barely, but still) in the fight up until the point their father pushed she and the rest to get away. That was when, for the moment, she was perfectly fine with her sister departing. The words were cruel and went clean through the ribs, straight to her heart. "Wow," she breathed, shaking her head.

The words were twisted into something ugly in her head. "Wow." It was all she could say.

Eshe believed in these words that she was somehow blamed for the loss of her family. Her ears fell back atop her head before she herself turned away from her sister, knowing anything she might have said beyond "wow" might burn the only bridge with what remained of her immediate family. The words of Bhreac were a whip against her hide, but what burned more was that she partially agreed with her sister. Her stubbornness would not allow her to admit it, that what she had done was stupid even if she understood why she had done it...

But she stopped a short distance away. The last time she had run from something, Eshe had thought she had lost the most important things to her, for life. "What do you want me to do?" I fucked up, were the unsaid words, the message there inundated in the exasperated voice that could be heard.