Firefly Ravine the north remembers

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Neither surprise nor a look of knowing passed through his features. He held an expression of neutrality, though a frown tugged at the corners of his lips, threatening to reveal itself. Without missing a beat, he said, “You need someone to train you.” Whilst the comment was likely to come off as being an insult, his intentions were to do anything but. The boy was his brother and so a part of Xan wanted to see him succeed; never would he be the best, of course, for that title was to be filled by the albino himself. Nevertheless, he did hope to see his brother improve, but doubted that he ever would if a teacher was never obtained. “Learning on your own is fine at first, but you eventually reach a point where you need someone with more experience to share what they know,” he explained. “You’ll never beat me if you don’t find someone to train with you.” Right then, the phantom of a smirk flitted across his face, the arrogance of his youth shining through.

With Atshen’s next words there came a smirk of his own, but his brother was without a reaction. He would have been impressed—may have even doled out a compliment—if not for one word: child. “You killed a kid,” he parroted back, snorting. “Do you think I’d be impressed by something like that? Did it even put up a fight?” Alexander did not pity the life that had been taken, nor did he care to hear the details of the murder. All he cared about was the fact that his brother—he was reconsidering his decision to accept him as a sibling now—had seemed to be proud of himself for the simple task of killing a small, helpless creature. “Anyone can kill a kid—other children can kill kids,” stated the Inuk, brushing off Atshen’s accomplishment. “Tell me when you’ve killed an adult, and then I’ll be impressed.” Until then, he would view the younger male as nothing more than the same lump of fur that the yearling had once despised.

Regarding his father, he responded with a stiff nod, figuring that the answer was good enough. As long as the elder northerner was still alive, then he was probably doing just fine. The finer details of his life—his hobbies, his thoughts, and so on—weren’t something that Alexander was particularly interested in delving into, so as basic of a response received was easy to accept.

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