Blackwater Islands Exodus

@Ruin

Awaiting the arrival of her brother's had Visala growing wary. It bothered her not to know where they were. She had begged the unnamed God to provide her with insight, but they would not give in to her cries today it seemed.

Kerosene and Nayavanti far too busy making reparations to the territory, Visala was often left alone in the den that was now hers. Despite it being the 'listeners den' she did not yet feel at home here. It was the den of the listener before her, and so she felt like a guest.

While it had been her reality since her siblings were old enough to exit the den, Visala had never been comfortable being left on her own. It was no fault of her own that she could not wander as safely as the other's.

She had been raised to believe that her condition was a sign from the unnamed God, a test to see if she would survive. Other's believed it a sign of the willpower of their deity. Visala had lived to serve a purpose.

But if she failed to serve, would that mean she would die?

The closer he got to the den, the quieter the air seemed to grow, like even the wind refused to disturb this sacred ground. His breath felt heavier, his chest tight, and for a moment, he considered turning back. He wasn’t made for this—the thinking, the talking.

Still, something inside him pushed him forward. Loyalty, maybe. Duty. Something deeper he couldn’t name.

When he finally reached the den, Ruin slowed, his frame casting a long shadow over the entrance. He stopped a few paces away, his eye narrowing as he stared into the darkened hollow.

He couldn’t see her yet, but he knew she was there—he smell her.

This was her. His sister. His lifeblood. The Listener.

And he had no idea what to do.

Ears twitched at the sound of footsteps, and for a moment Visala tensed before the scent reached her.

She then let out a breath of gentle relief. Ruin? She called out, to usher him in if nothing else. Did he not know better than to sneak up on a blind girl? She would not hold it against him, of course. He had always been simple minded and she doubted that he thought of such things.

Visala held a deep care for her siblings, and yet she knew that they did not view her the same way. She was the Listener, a figure who was revered. Their parents had claimed her to be a saint sent by their deity themself.

It was a simple fact that each individual wished to be special, to have something that set them apart. Visala was glad to have been the one chosen.

But God, it could get lonely.

For a moment, he didn’t move, his scarred face pulling into a faint scowl—not from anger, but from confusion.

How did she know he was there?

“Didn’t mean to sneak,” he muttered, the words tumbling out clumsily as he lowered his head, as if bowing to the weight of her presence. He stayed outside the den, massive and awkward, like a boulder unsure if it belonged in the sea.

His good eye flicked toward her, then darted away.

Ruin shifted his weight, clearing his throat, the sound like a landslide of gravel. He didn’t know what else to say. She wasn’t just his sister anymore, not really. She was the Listener, a saint, a prophet. Revered. Untouchable. But she was still Visala, too, wasn’t she?

“You’re alone,” he added suddenly, the realization hitting him with a dull thud. His tone shifted, gruffer, protective. “Why’re you alone? Where’s Kerosene? Nayavanti?”

From the dark of her den, she seemed to stare.

They are preparing the island. It's in ruins, from what Kerosene says. Of course Nayavanti had not wanted to leave her, but with no other's to help they could not rely on Kerosene alone to get things done. Are you hungry?

Small paws tapped the floor of her den, the usual routine followed when she was searching for something. She had always preferred a misstep of her paw to the misplacement of her muzzle. A nasty sting from a bug when they were young had taught her that.

“Ruins…” he muttered, his tone thick with disapproval, as though the state of the island were a personal affront. “Doesn’t mean you should be left like this.” His voice carried a low growl, a protective edge that wasn’t entirely conscious.

Her question caught him off guard.

He was always hungry, but it wasn’t something he ever thought to mention. “… I guess.” The answer came gruffly, almost reluctant, as though admitting it were some kind of weakness.

When he caught the sound of her paws tapping, his ears twitched. He frowned, watching her movements from the shadows.

I'm not completely helpless, they can leave me be while they're still on the island. She frowned, her tail swishing against the dirt floor. Now come in, it smells wet outside. Her tone carried some sternness, but with a voice so high it was difficult to take her too seriously when she spoke in such a way. It was likely why Nayavanti often spoke to outsiders for her.

Her paw hit something, and she pulled the carcass of a rabbit to herself. Caught not too long ago by Nayavanti, but Visala was not quite hungry. I know it's small, but, She did not finish her sentence. There was little more to say.

With a grunt, he ducked his head and lumbered forward, his broad shoulders brushing the edges of the entrance as he squeezed in.

When she dragged the rabbit toward herself, Ruin’s eye flicked to it, then back to her. He tilted his head slightly, his expression unreadable as she spoke.

“It’s enough,” he rumbled. He shifted closer, his paw reaching out slowly, almost hesitant.

His paw brushed the edge of the carcass, but he didn’t take it just yet.

“You don’t need it?” he asked, glancing up at her with that single, intense green eye.

She shook her head. Nayavanti is keeping me more than well fed. Visala was afraid that she may begin to gain weight, really. Take it.

As he approached, she checked his scent to see who else he may have come with. When she found nothing, a frown settled on her face.

Is Morokei not with you? It seemed that there was more waiting to do.

At her insistence, he leaned down and grabbed the rabbit in his jaws, his teeth sinking into the soft flesh with practiced ease.

At her question, his chewing slowed, and he looked up at her, his good eye narrowing slightly. “No. Came alone,” he muttered around the bite in his mouth.

The thought of their absent sibling made his scarred brow furrow. “Figured he’d be here already.”

Ruin wasn’t one for overthinking, but he didn’t like the idea of Visala waiting. It didn’t feel right.

He glanced toward the den’s entrance, the faint patter of rain still audible beyond. “He’ll come.”

A frown settled on her face as Ruin gave his answer. She was worried sick waiting like this.

Right.. he'll come soon. She sighed. You'll take me to him when he does, right? Visala hated to make herself out as helpless, and yet she could not help but remind her brother's all the same. It kept her saintly, kept them sympathetic.

She hated to be fawned over, but wished to be cared for. Found people's interest in her irritating, yet longed to be praised. She was only ever contradicting herself, and yet it was masked so well.

Ruin’s eye lingered on Visala, her frown pulling at something deep in his chest. He wasn’t good at understanding feelings—his own or others’—but the sight of her like this made his muscles tense, like he needed to do something.

“Yeah,” he rumbled, the word simple and direct. He shifted his massive frame, his ears twitching as if straining to hear movement outside the den. “When he shows up, I’ll take you to him.” His tone was gruff but carried a quiet certainty, a promise he wouldn’t break.

Her contradictions were lost on him; to Ruin, she wasn’t a puzzle to figure out. She was the Listener. His sister. His lifeblood. That was all he needed to know.

He watched her for a moment longer, his expression unreadable, then added, “You don’t have to worry. If he doesn’t come, I’ll find him. Drag him back if I have to.” There was no jest in his voice, just blunt truth.

Ruin's promise returned the smile to her face. She loved her simple minded brother dearly, to her he was only ever sweet. Thank you.. The words were spoken quietly, Visala often soft-spoken despite being well-mannered.

It was good to have him here, good to have family. She let out a breath.

Everything would be okay.