Porcupine Ridge I'll worship like a dog at the shrine of your lies

Oh, he had the air of an only child to him—she'd just wanted to confirm it. She fought the corners of her maw as it threatened to spread a satisfied grin, oh how nice it felt to be right. Jus' figured if you didn't keep many close, that y'either didn't have any or didn't like em'. I thought there might've been a story somewhere in there.

Well, if he would not tell one, she most certainly would; she liked to talk and his proximity invited her into it further. Dreven had sated that need for listening ears most days and nights, but Envy was a beast insatiable, and an opportunistic one at that. He doesn't, really. A silvery brow would raise, she contemplated complimenting her brother, he had been her rock, the shield that kept her from fates worse than the one they'd been given the moment they slid into this world; but he was her brother and so she was drawn to the call of insult. I mean.. He's... I don't know. He liked to pick fights, could'a sworn he liked getting hurt... Envy drawled with a inkling of suspicion, the sort that implied something far nastier, her words complimented with a shudder. I think he pretended to be worse than he was sometimes.

Unlike her, her brother had heart. The sort that stood up for others even if he went about it in a way that made it seem like it was for himself. Only in spilt blood did they have any semblence of similarity. Only in that call to violence did the blood in their veins burn the same.

The devil their sire, they'd been cursed that way. Verax always had more direction with it. He used ta' fight for the scraps we got to eat, n' he kept some of the others away. He got all the size— an ever so breif pause as she'd hiss out the word Bastard, she seethed with envyjealousy, he owed it to her to protect them since he stole all the strength that should've been split between them So it was only right he did the work.

There had been others, at the point of their entrance to this world. Not that they'd lived long. Instead it was her, meekest of the bunch that carried on. She spared the others no memory, what good would it have done her? Even their names were lost in the fog of her head.

Once, she'd never been without him. Now it had been months, and though she replaced the comfort and protection with that of others, there was still a part of her that left him to idle at the back of her mind. He probably thought she was long dead.

He might've been, too.

We were separated back when— She flashed him a knowing look through a guilty red gaze. Y'know. I had to go and I didn't have the luxury of telling him.

More than that even, she had not been right of mind at the time, a mess of a bloodied nape and the smear of kinsblood on her chin and in her mouth. She'd run until she'd collapsed, sobbing, angry, panicked, stumbling and swaying, everything all at once. Madness. It reared its head and covered so much of it in fog, it violated her.

She didn't want to talk about him anymore. Something stirred in her gaze and caught in her breath.