Oystercatcher Tide Pools do not look for my heart anymore, the beasts have eaten it

“You’re right, I shouldn’t be,” she says in a huff. Irritation evident but, this time, isn’t directed at her brother. Pale eyes glance away, looking at the ocean, but the sun shines bright against the surface so much she has to divert her gaze. She squints and shies away, looking elsewhere away from the coast. Her sigh exhales enough that rattles her body, hungry and famished, and even his single step forward doesn’t rattle her. Eventually, she allows her light gaze to find his features that show nothing but angry and hatred while her own has considerably softened.

Ksenia’s ears fall back against her head and she frowns, taking another step to close the distance.

“I shouldn’t be here anymore than you should,” she says, “mom does nothing but talk about the mistake she made since she banished you.” 

She swallows a lump she forms in her throat and her head turns in a way that flashes the scar along her neck. Ksenia only catches a glimpse of it when she’s quenching her thirst, but for those around her it’s a reminder and even if she doesn’t see it often, she’s always aware of its presence. Her pale, silvered eyes turn to her brother then, pleading, as her own form reduces in his sight.