Broken Boulder we walk the hillside, lost souls in the moonlight

Slowly, she had taken comfort in patrolling the borders.  She did not like the way her scent was all over the place but she knew it was her duty and she performed it ritually.  Beneath the light tremble of rain she marked today before a blur of charcoal caught her sight.  Quickly, she moved to block her brother's path with her small, dainty body (so suddenly confident and self-assured) and as he slowed to a halt, she turned upon him with a scrutinizing eye.

What?  She bristled, tail arcing as she moved to place herself between her brother and the border.  Was it Runion?  Did she need to protect him?

His chest was still heaving as he closed the distance between himself and the borders of his home, sobs still tearing from his throat. Of all the feelings he expected, the creeping sense of regret was not one. He had already slowed when Eris was suddenly in his path, ready to turn back. Relief and agitation hit him in equal waves at the sight of her.
Zamael— It came out choked, desperate, only half intended as an answer to her question. He collapsed, tears spilling over and soaking into his fur. Alarian tried again a few more times, tried to tell her something, but nothing came out. The grief and regret had lodged firmly in his throat; all he could think about was the fact that he needed to go back. He needed to find Zamael, and never let him leave again.

Zamael, he choked.  Her heart lodged in her chest.  It had been her worst fear now that she and Alarian were finally building an unsteady relationship that Zamael would show up and shatter it with his presence.  She had never resented Zamael more than any of the rest of them, but now?

Oh, she chirped, owlish orange eyes wide and glassy.  She should be happy for him, she really should, but the selfish part of her wanted Zamael to go the fuck away and never come to this Sanctuary because she knew if he made this place his home, it would no longer be Eris'.  oh.

I ran away from him, The words dripped with bitter regret, an emotion he didn't even try to mask. Let her hate him for it; he knew she would. How could she not? He was looking for me— over a year later. A year too late.
He wasn't paying attention to her, now. All he registered was the mixture of hurt and anger pulsing through his veins, tainting every thought. He just expects me to— to forget that I wasn't good enough the first time. Just because he decided I'm worth something now. And the worst part is— Another sob cut through his words. I want to.
But I can't. I mean, I shouldn't— right? Now he looked to his sister, gaze raw and questioning. He needed something, anything— anything to tell him where to go from here.

Perhaps if she had been Lanawyn in this moment and not Eris, she would have comforted him.  But this girl was selfish to her core, and she was sick of being hurt and trod on.  

No, she borderline begged, voice soft and cracked.  She didn't want her brother to fucking run away again and leave her to deal with everything here — by herself, now that Lily was gone — so he could run after a part of their past that hadn't come back for them.  

Even more selfishly, she did not want him to run after Zamael and leave her in the dust alone, again.  Alarian's reaction would determine everything — if he chose Zamael over her, it would be a transgression she could never forgive.

She offered little more than a single word: No. No— he couldn't let himself have this. No— he didn't deserve it. No— he could never be loved that way.
But he could. Some part of him was certain Zamael would still be out there, looking; that he would still want him. And perhaps he was the only one. Everyone around him was content to watch him crumble— that much had become obvious over the last month, as his weight dwindled and he neglected his own care and spiraled further into this hole. He had realized, slowly, that he didn't want to be here— that no one here would love him the way he wished they would.
And while he couldn't leave, maybe— maybe he deserved to bring a piece of his own happiness here. He blinked in the face of Eris' no, and slowly shook his head. But what if— what if it made everything better? What if I could stop being... broken? It slipped from him as a whisper, almost a plea. Maybe Zamael could make him whole again.

Why can't I do that for you?  Alarian was too busy dealing with his own hurt that he had neglected to see Eris for what she was — a poorly-constructed tempermantal facade of a girl who was too broken to come up with any better answers.  She took one step back, two, ears slicked to the sides.  

She couldn't crumble in front of him — not here, not now — so instead she chose to bolt.  Alarian always ran away without notice and always slipped back in when he wanted and now it was Eris — Lanawyn's — turn to crumble and falter.

 

She knew in her heart he wouldn't come looking for her.

He had better things to do.

He was frozen for several beats after she turned, unable to answer; unwilling to answer. Because you don't want to, his mind murmured for him. As far as he knew, that was the truth.
Then it registered— she was leaving. She was abandoning him too. He had finally done it, as he'd known he would— he'd driven everyone away, again. Without thinking, he darted after her, limbs somehow both numb and aching with the effort. He had already run so far, though. Her lead only grew, until finally even her scent was beginning to grow weaker, and he didn't know where he was anymore.
His eyes were too blurred with tears to see, so he didn't even try. When he finally accepted he'd lost her, he could only collapse where he was. It was hours before he moved again.