Sun Mote Copse Break out of captivity

Penn had helped to get her mind off of it, but she knew she couldn't avoid @Figment forever.  She didn't want to.  She wanted nothing more than to have things be the way they were, but that probably wasn't going to be the case.

Thats why she looked for him, nose and ears both searching, but she did so slowly.  Not reluctant.  Just... thoughtful.  She wound between the trees of the copse and stood a moment, poised, as snow lightly fell from the trees above to dust across her back.  She shivered, then sighed.  She shouldn't have run away earlier.  Probably she'd only made things worse.

Fig had listened when his parents had encouraged him to let Fennec have her space. It had seemed even to him to be the right thing to do. He didn't blame her for being upset over their reunion. He had failed her. He'd let her get lost when it was his job--had always been his job--to look after her. Whatever she'd been through when she'd been away was his fault. The fact that she seemed whole and healthy suggested it hadn't been anything too terrible, but he didn't know. Part of him didn't even want to know. He felt guilty enough already.

After a little while, though, he decided it had been long enough. It didn't sit right with him to not face his crimes, no matter how awful he felt. And to have Fenn within reach again without being near her was simply uncomfortable as it was just so unnatural. He gravitated towards her like the moon does the earth, unable to resist. He was her guardian. Leaving her without one when he was more than capable of it now was wrong, so he would just have to face whatever blackness existed between them so he could fall back into his place, orbiting around her like the overprotective annoyance he was.

It's what brothers do.

"Fenny?" he called when he spotted her in the trees after searching for a while. She appeared to be looking for something too, though he couldn't guess at what. Maybe a stick to beat him with. He wilted submissively under his guilt (even though she wouldn't be able to see him do so) and waited.

She only had to wait a short while before Fig called to her.  She heard his voice but didn't bother to turn, instead remained standing where she was.

She wasn't angry.  She was ashamed, somewhat, because of how she'd left.  She was scared, more, because she wasn't sure how much he'd missed her.  But mostly, and overwhelmingly, she was jealous.

If these past few weeks had shown anything it was that nothing would be simple when she did it. When he'd been around, she'd been too young to even consider her blindness a limitation.  Now it felt like a chain around her neck, and while he was off living new places, shed been trying to come to terms with it.  It didn't even occur to her that he might not have enjoyed his time away.  She didn't even know if he was staying.

Hey, Fig. She finally said, tentatively.  The silence hung after her words awkwardly.  She'd been looking for him, but she hadn't even considered what she might say when she found him.  Most of the questions she had she didn't want to ask.

It occurred to Fig within seconds of garnering Fennec's attention that he should've planned out what he was going to say to her. The instant she turned in his direction, his mind emptied of ideas. He was glad she couldn't see his face then because he was certain he looked like a moron with his deer-in-the-headlights expression and jaw hanging open uselessly. There was so much he should say, so much for the two to talk about, even without the guilt hovering between them. Where had she gone? Where had she been? What adventures had she had? Had she missed him at all?

He didn't know where to begin, though, so he just let his brain flop about like a magikarp trying to use Splash attack as he uttered a slightly mumbly, "What's up?" He winced almost instantly, "How are you?" He winced again.

He was mumbling and awkward when he finally did speak, and immediately all of Fennec's insecurities about his being here flared to overdrive.  She felt herself heat up uncomfortably and, for some strange reason, she immediately felt like crying.  She wouldn't.  No way.

She wasn't doing this.  Fennec swallowed, but didn't move closer yet.  Time to ask the question that really was going to seal it all, yeah?  The one she was most worried about, because she didn't know why they had left in the first place, or whether he was happy to find her back.

Are you staying?  To her credit, her voice only wavered a little.  She didn't know how to handle any of this.  Why did things have to change?

Fig didn't know what to expect from his sister, but what he got struck him as the most unexpected of all. Was he staying? He blinked stupidly at her, surprised and confused. He didn't understand how she could even question that particular detail--of course he was staying. Why wouldn't he stay? Where would he go? He hadn't been the one to leave. Fenn had left, and even Towhee had left. He had stayed.

"Of course I am," he said, allowing his tone to reveal the incredulity he felt though he didn't like himself for it. He paused only a moment before adding the question that had burned in his own mind, regardless of how unimaginitive it likely seemed in that moment, "Are you staying?"

He sounded so offended by the idea that she flinched a bit.  She hadn't expected that surety, but it brought instant relief, followed by a flash of frustration as everything she'd been struggling with was brought up by a single question returned to her.

Yeah. It's not like I have a choice.  She said, unable to help herself.  She knew it was cheap, to bring that up.  There was no reason she should want to leave, and she didn't really.  She immediately regretted it, because she knew what it implied.

I'm not going.  I didn't even want to before.  It was stupid, I got scared, I ran and was too dumb to find my way back.  She said, with a rueful kind of humor to it.  It was easier to joke about it because then she could ignore the fact that she'd disappeared because she'd been too much a coward to deal with the shaking in the earth.  No one else had run; just her.

It seemed impossible that he could be any more surprised by his sister's words, and yet he was. Though it wasn't so much by her words, but by the implication in them. It quickly became apparent to Fig that she blamed herself for what had happened. She acted as though it was her own fault she'd gotten lost--her own fault she'd been parted from her family. And, I mean, it was, but not to him. Not to one who found it so very hard to hold those he loved responsible for their own actions.

"It wasn't your fault," Fig protested, "It was my fault. I should've been there. I should've helped. I should've found you and brought you back. I should never have let you get lost in the first place. You weren't stupid, I was... I'm sorry." He shook his head as the words tumbled out, finding it easier to admit what he considered to be truths for the simple fact that he needed to correct her perception of what had happened.

He was trying to convince her it was his fault!?  She gritted her teeth.  No!  I should have known that you and dad and Towhee can't always be there.  I should have been able to take care of myself like anyone else, but I can't.  It isn't your fault and I'm not your responsibility.  She took one step towards the sound of his voice.

I don't want to be that.  I don't want to be scared of being alone.  She felt her throat grow tight as she said the last bit, and the words choked a little.  She didn't want it for herself, and she didn't want it for him, because if he ever got tired of her she couldn't stand it.  She couldn't handle it if he ever talked to her the way that woman had.

Her argument astounded him, not in its content but in the fact that it even existed. Fig had been so certain she would be mad at him, that she would blame him. To hear that she didn't was too startling to even be of any relief. Which is perhaps a good thing, because it kept him clear to see the emotion she showed instead of blame.

He forgot everything then--who was to blame, who was mad at who. Even why he was supposed to be so awkward. He stepped toward her and nudged his nose softly against hers. "But you're not alone, Fenn," Fig said softly, wanting to reassure her, comfort her, make her stop being so sad, "We're here together now, all of us. You don't have to worry about being alone anymore."

She heard him move in and let him, but her ears tucked back.  You don't get it. she mumbled.  Of course he didn't, he was just fine.  That's how it was before, but then things happen, and what if they happen again? You're here now, but what happens if you leave? Or if I want to leave?  She felt guilty even as she said it because that wasn't how things were supposed to be.  They weren't supposed to be apart.

She just didn't want to assume.  She'd been so worried about it, and hadn't really shared that worry with anyone until now.  But if she couldn't tell Fig, then she couldn't tell anyone.

It was really bad.  I can't do that again.  She needed him to understand that because she suddenly realized that she needed his help.  She couldn't learn what she needed to alone.

Fig frowned as Fennec continued, claiming he didn't understand and speaking of hypotheticals that he simply couldn't imagine ever happening. His takeaway from the event was opposite from hers. While it had opened her eyes to the probability that it could happen to her again, it had (ironically) blinded Fig to that possibility. It was impossible that she would be on her own again. Figment wouldn't let that happen, ever.

But, then she flipped the tables on him. What if she wanted to leave? Fig blinked at her, uncertain of what she meant and anxious now that she meant what he feared. She didn't want him around. He had hurt her by failing her and she didn't want to give him the chance to do it again. His ears fell as his expression morphed into one of desolation. Fennec had been his world. He'd never had to hide anything from her, and her blindness had made it so he wouldn't need to try even if he did. So, he wore his every truth, every feeling on his entire body. This feeling was sadness, and it didn't change when she added her last.

"I won't leave..." he muttered, uncertain what else to say except to subtly try to let her know that he wasn't going anywhere in hopes that it would help her to know that she shouldn't either.

She didn't know why she was suddenly mad at him, but his downtrodden tone, and what he said, made it feel like he wasn't listening to her.  She wanted his help, but she didn't want to have to ask for it.  She didn't want it if he didn't want to give it.

You aren't the one who's stuck.  She said, a little unkindly, and before she could feel properly bad for it she turned to leave.  She'd wanted this to go better, but she couldn't sit here and feel the guilt coming off him in waves when she'd been in such a horrible spot herself lately.  It was too much.

Just... leave me alone, okay?  She'd been doing okay without him these last few weeks; she didn't need a babysitter.  He could go make friends or go back to the Frosthawks or whatever.  She didn't want him to, and it broke her heart to think it, but she couldn't just go back to how it was.

Fenn's response did not help him to understand. If anything, it confused him more. If only one thing managed to cement in his mind it was that she did not really want to stay here. She didn't want to stay with him. And apparently, she didn't want him around either.

Fig didn't know how to respond, so he merely turned and walked away. There was nothing else for him to do. He would not force his company or his help upon her if she was happier without it. Even if it meant that here, in the middle of this woods with his family surrounding him at last, he was now the one lost without his place by Fennec's side.

RUDE SISTER

-Signing.- | "Speaking." | -"Signing & speaking."- | "Mouthing (inaudible)." | Thoughts.
Fenn is welcome at all times and will in fact make me sad if she doesn't show up.

RIGHT?! ;.;

Fennec heard him walking away without another word and she didn't know what to do, so she stood, paralyzed.  A part of her had wanted him to refuse and to actually listen and understand how scary all of this was for her.  But the other part knew that she was going to start crying any minute, and doing that with him here would have been awful.

She lasted only a few steps before she sat down, then laid down, and buried her face in her paws for a good sob fest.  Stupid Figment and his stupid... she didn't even know.  He hadn't even done anything.  She hadn't let him.

She was a rotten sister.  But at least, this way, he wouldn't hate her for being blind.  Instead he'd just hate her for being herself.