Overture Downs Shattered, I will capture you, so run

Slightly backdated!

The sloping meadow was a very different place now. All painted green and autumnal colors, not a hint of white; yet Reverie could not help but remember a pale sister found among the snow. Bjarna halp?
She could hardly bear the melancholy hanging over her, so she tried to cheer herself up. Reverie chewed on cattails and splashed around glumly in one of the streams. But all she could think about was Bjarna, wondering where she was, if she was okay; if she would ever come back. She hoped that wherever she was, she was free, exploring the world on her own terms. She hoped that it made her happy.

Win was a lonely sort among her packmates.

She didn’t socialize. She didn’t speak. She kept her head down and worked quietly, diligently, to try and repay the people who didn’t actually need to take her in. Her scar was shiny with the effort now, a bad memory and a lingering crack, but she had too many cracks now. Scars dotted her hocks, scars that dug so deep into skin it made her hurt. But she was doing somewhat better.

Poppy made the pain go away, briefly, but she knew she couldn’t rely on it forever. Addiction wasn’t a good look on anyone.

She came to the meadow today to try and outrun her own pain, not managing it well, considering she winced with every step. But, she was following scents of ducks, of other fowl. Maybe a nice ptarmigan. She licked her lips at the thought. Win tried for a confident stride, but really, she looked somewhat hunched with pain.

It was only splashing that made her huff in exasperation, expecting to see a pup playing among the cattails and dancing through the shallows like an idiot. But, it wasn’t. Win caught sight of golden fur, and golden eyes, and suddenly she was back there. Back with side eyes and elbows to the ribs and hisses in her ears of ”why can’t you just be normal, Winifred! They’re looking at us!” Win’s throat constricted, her heart skipping a beat, and she felt like she was drowning on dry land.

Sunnovabitch

Hey!

Is that all you gotta say to your goddamn sister, Winifred?

Hey!
A decidedly not-Bjarna voice broke through her thoughts. Reverie could only blink for a moment, startled by the familiarity, almost afraid to turn and look. But she did. She did look, and in the next moment she was unsure whether she felt gratitude or regret for it.
W-Winifred? Reverie questioned aloud, ears folding briefly before pulling forward in curiosity. She stepped out of the stream she'd been splashing in, a little embarrassed, but didn't approach. Not yet. When was the last time she'd spoken to her sister? Did Win even want to talk to her anymore? She knew her brothers had come to find her, but Win had not been among them, and so Reverie was wary.
Most of all because she feared hearing that name.

Winifred.

Win felt her jaw clench so hard it ached, enamel scratching enamel in such a way it sent pins and needles through her entire body. Her body language locked up tighter than a maximum security prison, the very projection of confused rage.

Th’fuck you doing out here? Bitterness corded through her very muscles, and Winifred twitched, swinging her head wide to look in every direction.

And of them with you? Her voice was rough, accent that was entirely fake, just like the rest of her thickening with emotion.

Ophelia had never been a threat, but damn if she didn’t feel like one now.

Why was she talking like that? Reverie might have thought she was messing around if she didn't seem so... angry. She could do nothing but blink at her for a few seconds, wholly confused.
She wanted to ask if Winifred was okay, but then it registered that her sister had asked her own questions. Um. Evander, Reverie answered belatedly, sounding a little dazed. Why are you - here; talking like that; so angry - such a bitch?
Well. No taking it back now.

Evander, she says.

Why are you a bitch, she says.

Win’s mouth curved into a mean smirk, the whites of her eyes showing as she did so.

You never listened to anybody, did ya? Her heart hummed as fast as the wings of a hummingbird.

I’ve always been a bitch. Said by concerned neighbors, said by colleagues, said by mother and father and everyone who’d ever met her for longer than five minutes. Win tried not to let it hurt, but it did anyway, scalding her feelings to the point they turned to obsidian.

Reverie immediately felt bad. No — she felt terrible. Maybe it was the bitter memory of Tybault that twisted her mouth with such ugly words. Or maybe that was just who she was; someone who hurt others, whether she meant to or not.
Maybe this was just more honest.
I'm sorry, She said anyway, eyes filling with tears. She loved her sister, of course she loved her. How could she say such cruel things? I - I didn't mean it. It's just - Reverie swallowed painfully and stepped closer. It feels like The Gilded Sea is always right there behind me. And it always hurts. But that's not your fault.

Her memories were cockeyed. She remembered Ophelia as a dazed little creature.


The sight of tears in her eyes was familiar, in a sick and twisted way. It made her stomach curdle, twisting like a fist had formed around her gut. Win swallowed back bile, staring at her sister for a minute, before sighing a breath out through her nose.

It feels like it’s breathing on your heels, red hot. Like you’re a deer being hunted by an entire pack of hounds. Always looking over your shoulder, trying to outrun something that feels inevitable. Her smile had become something bitter, like already cracked glass.

You’re not the only one the Gilded Sea hurt, sister mine.

I know, She said softly, shamed by her sister's words. It was easy to think of herself as the only victim of that horrible place, but Reverie knew better than that. And now here was the evidence staring her directly in the face. How could she say such ugly things to her own sister?
Everett is at the coast. Tybault is... around, somewhere, Reverie continued, feeling awkward now. They came looking for me. But now - now they're living their own lives, because I told them I didn't want them in mine. She sighed softly. Are you - doing well, at least? Have you found somewhere new? Somewhere unlike The Gilded Sea; somewhere safe. That was what she hoped for all of her siblings.