Greatwater Lake she was afraid of dreadful prophecies

both sibling-searchers. scylla had her sister, he had his own. he lets out a rueful sigh.
i never loved her. she never loved me. but a betrayal is a betrayal, i guess. he'd never understood the resentment that poisoned the family tree like lead, only that it was there and had always been there, only that he had got all the praise and she hadn't. what a sullen little thing. he'd always explain to her, survival of the fittest, and look at where he'd ended up now.
he curls a fist and presses to the ground, firmly but gently, though the fist itself shakes with the effort of clenching it. how is your sister like?
at her question, he pauses before flashing a bitter smile. the paleness of his teeth on his dark face is disconcerting. charming, if you looked hard enough. she left me to bleed out... he offers in lieu of a proper explanation. the implication flows heavy and black into his mouth like tar. so i will too.