Chimera Fields long intervals of horrible sanity

All of the fight had gone out of Cypress. He swayed where he stood, and midway into Rannoch’s speech, he drooped dejectedly, his narrow skull jutting down from the high crest of his shoulders so that his bloodied muzzle hung even with the sharp angles of his carpi. “Y-You don’t love me!” Rannoch cried.

Without looking up, “Yes, I do,” the raven mumbled, too quietly, flattening his ears defensively against his head as his littermate’s angry words rained over him. It was one thing, he thought, to call someone a mean name like a ‘coward’ — and another thing entirely to tell a lie as big as that one.

“You don’t love me, Cypress.”

“Yes, I do,” tasting soil, feeling the press of its granules against his nose.

“I-I thought you did b-but I was wrong.”

Cypress curled in on himself, his tail tucking in abject, wretched submission toward the boy who had consistently bested him in every regard, and then he did look up. He drew breath to speak. “Of course I love you, Noch,” he’d say. “I didn’t mean what I said — I’ll take everything back if it means you’ll stay — and I’ll go with you if that’s what you really want.” He’d say all that, and it’d fix all the things that’d gone wrong.

“I-If you really loved me…you would understand why I have to do this. Why I have to go…”

The air rushed out of him as if he’d been punched in the stomach. He didn’t understand. Couldn’t. And for the life of him, Cypress couldn’t figure out how love had become so conditional for Rannoch — such a fickle thing to throw around. The lonely raven couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t loved his brother.

Even now — even now —

He drew breath again. This time, he’d say it. This time, he’d fix it.

Rannoch’s smile was as sunny as it had always been. It was tearstained and wan, but under all the grief and frustration and desperation, there it was. Cypress could count on that, just like always.

Maybe he should’ve said something then.

“I love you, Cypress…I always will…”

Maybe he should’ve said something then.

Suspicion was first to bloom in the eidolon’s lantern yellow eyes; regret, affection, and hope followed in quick succession. He should’ve said something. See, he knew what was happening the moment Rannoch whipped around — he should’ve said something — and it only became more apparent when the grayscale Frostfur began running. Should’ve said something. Even now, there was a grace period; Cypress had always been quicker than his heavily-muscled littermate, head start or no. If he started running now —

“No fair, Noch; we didn’t say ‘go!’”

In the end, though, Cypress didn’t give chase. He didn’t call out.

“No, you don’t. No, you won’t,” he mumbled, too quietly, tasting soil, feeling the press of its granules against his nose; and then he crumpled to his knees and wept. “I broke my family — I broke it.”