Ankyra Sound it's easier than waiting around to die
what's a little sweetheart like you
doing with a bloody nose?
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#1
There was no doubt Raleska felt closer to @Svalinn than @Illidan. For all the blood that she and the adopted Eyjolfur didn't share, they had grown up together -- and that more than filled the holes left by their lack of shared ancestry.

Truth be told, Raleska was shy around Illidan - he was so different than she remembered (and she barely remembered him). She wanted more than anything for things to be back to the way they had been, but that too wasn't possible - anymore than it was possible for her father to return.

She had learned from her mother that Illidan had witnessed Kierkegaard's death; wide-eyed, the girl had wished it was not true and had sat awake for hours that night, recalling the stern features of her father. She had wanted to talk to Illidan - to hear from his own mouth what had happened - but then the wolves above had wrongly stolen one of Ma's wolves, and then they had killed Eurycrates and she had been dragged like a prized boar before them, thrown at their feet as if she weighed nothing.

She swallowed and quickly thought of something else, for a brim of hot tears stung her eyelids to think of her father, and then her humiliation in so quick a succession. A rather hoarse gasp (a rattle, really) sounded from her thin throat as she inhaled and made herself busy digging for fiddler-crabs -- the last thing she wanted was for anyone to see her like this.
all of which makes me anxious,
at times unbearably so.
the gunslinger
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#2
illidan was no fool; he knew that he was an outsider to his own family. he had done what he could to speak with svalinn – to accept him as a brother instead of the one that had betrayed them and the other that had disappeared. that was easy enough, if only because the adopted boy had only been a young puppy when their family had fallen apart. it was like creating a fresh relationship with someone new, and the young ghost believed that it made things easier on him.

his sister, though...

there was a fear that rose in the pit of his stomach every time he imagined talking to raleska. yet, when he had seen that the cliff wolves had taken her – had hurt her – he could not suppress the savage rage that had burned through his youthful frame. surely, there was more to his anger than just that, but he had found a reason to feel it instead of to smother it. there was something relieving about letting it take hold of his body.

trailing along the beach, the young ghost almost missed the darker frame of the girl until it was far too late for him to turn around. he swallowed heavily and peered at her for a moment before chuffing softly and drawing himself forward in a slow approach. “how are you... feeling?” he asked stiffly.
what's a little sweetheart like you
doing with a bloody nose?
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#3
How are you feeling?

Raleska's hair stood on end as a question caught her by surprise, spoken by the very devil she had just been thinking of. She straightened up and brushed a paw against her slim wrist, her gaze guilty as she beheld the form of her brother. For all of the resemblance his markings bore to Caiaphas, like her mother, she only saw her father in him - a realization that brought a fresh host of frustrated tears to her eyes that she refused to shed.

She didn't want to expose her emotions to her brother; it was not because of the distance between them, but because of her own hardened, stubborn self. To admit to feelings was somehow a flaw - and Raleska wanted to be anything but considered emotional or soft. She stiffened, quickly burying the very emotions that threatened to upend her. "I'm fine," The answer was a bit curt, and she realized it belatedly -- and in a similarly gruff tone as Illidan's own, added a softened "what about you?"
all of which makes me anxious,
at times unbearably so.
the gunslinger
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#4
'i'm fine...'

the tone was clipped, and he was surprised just how much that hurt him. you are an outsider, he reminded himself with gritted teeth and a clenched jaw. the young ghost lowered his skull and peered at his sister with a hawkish gaze that begged her not to hate him, but he could not form the words to express such things. raleska was quick to follow her statement with the same question to him, and her voice had softened some.

“yeah, fine...” he answered her. then, he felt a wave of regret for having approached her at all. he wondered if it was possible for him to turn and leave without causing some great offense. reason fought against the idea in his mind, urging him to say something else – urging him to build a relationship with her. illidan exhaled a great plume of breath into the chilling winter air.

“listen, i'm...” what? sorry?

the truth was that he did not know what he was, other than lost... other than an outsider to his own family. his brows furrowed over his eyes as he thought to bite his tongue clean off. spare him the humanity and the emotion that he felt clouded his judgment so much. take the words that he could hardly speak anyway and turn him into a mute. surely, that would have been a better existence than the life he lived. “i though about you guys every day,” he finally offered her, unable to make eye contact with the dark girl. this time, his tone was not as cold.
what's a little sweetheart like you
doing with a bloody nose?
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#5
Yeah, fine the dark-helmed boy muttered back. Raleska spared her brother a glance, wondering if he was doing the same as her and killing whatever feelings dared bloom inside of him; perhaps he too was doctoring his emotions, committing them to a deep and concealed death.

Had she been aware of his thoughts, she might have felt guilt harangue her - outsider, outsider, outsider - she might have shook her head and told him he was wrong - that he was part of Rusalka just like everyone else, and had been their family all along.

But she wasn't aware of his thoughts, she was only aware of him - his edges momentarily softened, and a vulnerability briefly appeared, quickly eclipsed. Raleska managed a bare smile, a fleeting expression that warmed her features enough to know that it had been genuine. Admittedly, had Illidan not been the first to disarm himself, Raleska would not have been so unguarded in turn. "We did too." She mumbled, finding it hard to hold his gaze as well. "What...." She halted, hating herself for being so nosy, and asking anyway: "what was it like?" Do you miss them?
all of which makes me anxious,
at times unbearably so.
the gunslinger
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#6
his doubts forced him to wonder if that was true. his mother had stated that she had searched for him and his brothers, that she had survived but had still looked for them. he wondered if she had only told him that to quell the rage he'd felt, or if she had truly sought him in her free moments. if it had only been a lie, he didn't think that he would mind. after a while, he was sure that he would have given up too. time had a way of making things seem impossible.

the question was unexpected. illidan darted his gaze to her in a sharp expression and frowned thoughtfully. he was not certain what it was that she was asking about. did she wish to know what it was like to wander in the woods alone? did she want to know how every night had felt like a looming shadow that he could never outrun? he assumed that she wanted to know about the people who had taken him in.

“it was different,” he said quietly, thoughtfully. “they were kind to me. probably kinder than they should have been.” after all, hadn't he only been a burden on them? he'd been a difficult soul to deal with, but kavik and liri had been nothing but supportive. in the end, he had left them behind. they had wasted their kindness on someone who was undeserving.

“i could probably show you sometime... er.... where we'd settled.”
what's a little sweetheart like you
doing with a bloody nose?
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#7
Raleska did not believe her brother undeserving. Like her, and Svalinn, he was simply misunderstood: their short lives had been sown with unusual sorrow for so untimely a span, and the three of them had clawed their way out just fine. It didn't matter to her anymore that Illidan happened to have scratched his living on a distant plateau -- because now he was reunited with his family, and to her mother she knew that was all that mattered.

She wondered what fleeting shade it was that hid behind Illidan's frown, for she had seen it flit briefly across his sharp features and just as quickly depart. "No, there isn't any need." Raleska said, shaking her head gently. She did not want to leave the coast - but then she realized that might have sounded rude. "I mean.. unless... you want to go back. Then I would go with you, if you wanted." She bit her lower lip and added in afterthought: "Mom would be worried if we did, though."

She looked across the shore, her eyes tracing the illuminant skyline as it kissed a dark span of ocean fog. "Do you remember what Mom said, about that wolf that night they got me...? Do you think it was true?"
all of which makes me anxious,
at times unbearably so.
the gunslinger
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#8
it was peculiar that one so young would have felt such self-loathing. he should not have been plagued with those thoughts or emotions. he should have been able to roam and chase – to be wild without the fear of what a burden he had been on those around him. life was not that kind, however. the dark-hooded young man had found a cumbersome weight had stolen a home between his shoulder blades. at first, it had been a difficult one to carry. over time, he had grown used to the feeling of it against his back, inside of his chest, and down the length of his limbs. it was almost as though that terrible weight had become a part of him.
 
raleska spoke of the day she had been stolen. illidan clenched his jaw and turned to her with a furrowed brow. she asked if he remembered what their mother had said… but he was afraid to admit that he did not remember much of anything from that day. all he could see was the image of their bother imprinted in his mind like a brand against the hide of a bull. that reminder was all that it took to completely forget about his offer of visiting the plateau.
 
“do you mean… about ephraim?” he ventured in a graveled voice.
what's a little sweetheart like you
doing with a bloody nose?
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#9
Raleska had been too vague. She frowned, frustrated by her own limitations on eloquence. Her brother seemed similarly vexed, for his expression was pulled into a dark scowl. She thought there was something else there, too, perhaps deep anger -- but she lacked the courage to probe deeper.

"Yeah," She answered resignedly, finding her gaze looking up at the stone shelf well beyond them. It had seemed absurd to her that the wolves of the cliff would care they settled below, when their hunting grounds didn't even expand into Ankyra by virtue of the some several-hundred-foot tall cliff between them. She supposed adults had so little to do with their lives than invent stupid things to squabble over.

She hated them. They had hurt her - they had killed Eurycrates right in front of her -- and while the young girl was hardened far beyond the norm for most kids her age, she was still just a child -- and she could not process the insensate violence without compartmentalizing it into helpless fury.
all of which makes me anxious,
at times unbearably so.
the gunslinger
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#10
her intuition was right – rage had found a place inside of his bones and had nestled there ever since the day he had found their father mangled on the shores of the lake. rationality took no place there; he felt as though he had needed someone to blame for the tragedy, and so he had. ephraim was to blame. he festered inside of this idea until it had started to rot in his mind. illidan did not need to share it. he simply knew that it was there, and that it was the only thing that could explain why such terrible things had happened to their family.

“it was him,” the ghost remarked without even a fraction of hesitation in his voice. his eyes darted toward the dark girl and he frowned. “i made sure that i'd never forget his face.” to some, that might have been a sweet comment – a boy recalling the image of his brother after their separation. in that moment, it was obvious that he did not speak of their brother with fondness. it had been spite and resentment that had forced him to keep the image of ephraim burning in the back of his mind.

“why?” why do you care about the boy who made a home with the enemy? the boy who killed our father...
what's a little sweetheart like you
doing with a bloody nose?
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#11
Raleska settled into the dirt, regretting her decision to bring up the tormented subject of their brother. Guiltily, she glanced up to the cliff -- the home of her enemy. Of their enemy.

How had he gotten there? Was Rhakios with him? And how, thought Raleska, could he turn his back on his family so easily? Was it better then that he was with the Drageda wolves, then? She released a shaky exhale, glancing away with exhaustion seeping into her expression.

"Just... thinking." She answered lamely, no longer wishing to think of their estranged brother.
all of which makes me anxious,
at times unbearably so.
the gunslinger
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#12
she closed off from him after he tried to force more out of her. it seemed as though she wanted to keep her thoughts to herself. part of this irritated illidan. he wanted raleska to share the way she felt so that he didn’t have to dig around for answers. he wished it was easier for him to grasp the concept of empathy when all he really felt was piping hot rage or nothing at all. instead, he was left to sit there with a scowl and a seething hatred for the brother on the cliffs. when his sister refused to comment further, he felt some of that anger spill out.
 
“thinking about what?” illidan asked her sharply, canting his head to the side so that his sharp yellow gaze locked on her features. he could not read her emotions based on her expressions – not yet. he knew very little about raleska at all, actually. the more he tried to understand what was going on in her mind, the more he was reminded of how much time had been taken from them to teach each other. and again, he felt his anger bubble and rise.
what's a little sweetheart like you
doing with a bloody nose?
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#13
As far as Raleska saw it, this conversation wasn't going to go anywhere. She didn't feel like opening herself up and being vulnerable - and for some reason even though Illidan was her brother and she wanted the best for him, she also felt she measured poorly next to him. She didn't want to seem weak in his eyes the way she seemed weak in her mother's.

She shook her head, a sign that she wasn't going to budge further. "Nothing, forget it." She said dismissively, wanting to move on. Their separated brother had betrayed them, and he wasn't worth the time it took for her to think of him. She felt Illidan's gaze boor into her, and defensively withdrew not unlike a grumpy tirtle turtle. "Let's hunt or something."
all of which makes me anxious,
at times unbearably so.
the gunslinger
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#14
illidan nodded his head at her remark, but he wouldn’t forget it. he seemed to be plagued with the rare ability to carry around most memories in his head and reflect on them whether they had a great impact on his life or not. those that did seemed to have found a permanent corner of his mind in which to live and fester. the image of their traitor brother: that had found a way to rot inside of him like a forgotten corpse in the woods. “patrol first,” he said with a ghost of a smile before bounding away toward the edges of their claim. in those moments, it almost made sense that he was able to go on living his life without suffering – that there were fleeting moments of happiness that could prevail.
 
the truth of the matter was only that illidan didn’t know when he had gotten so good at pretending to be okay.
what's a little sweetheart like you
doing with a bloody nose?
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#15
Raleska nodded, glad the conversation had shifted. She didn't want to talk anymore, and thankfully, Illidan didn't press for further answers. She couldn't say if she would have answered kindly if he did: to be honest, Raleska probably would have snapped.

She followed behind Illidan, sharply turning her attention to their patrol. Like her brother, the girl had gotten to be a master at disguising when things were okay. It was okay, this was okay, things will be okay...

.. would things be okay?
all of which makes me anxious,
at times unbearably so.