[ P ] I buried my faith with you

She sat alone, as she did most days now. Few words parted her dark lips and when they did, they were often clipped and borderline rude. Crystalline eyes that were once aloof, were now chilly, regarding everyone with thinly veiled impatience. Grief and anger tangled just beneath her skin, threatening to the rise to the surface and spill over. A part of her thought that work would help, but it hadn't, so she'd put in a leave of absence, withdrawing from her superiors and their pitying stares. News of her husbands passing had reached the army quickly, as it should considering his rank. The secret stares and hushed murmurs behind her back had gotten her into trouble, but her grief was enough of an excuse to receive only a slap on the wrist.

Back at the manse, her life was no easier. Everyone here shared a similar expression on their face and no one felt the need to express their sorrows for her loss. Thankfully.

Everyone was in the same stage of shock and various stages of grief. Denial had hit quickly, almost immediately. Anger now had her firmly in its grip and oh how tightly it gripped. Like a weight on her chest, it felt impossible to draw in a breath, each day more suffocating than the last. Her mind raced constantly, replaying that day in the redwood over and over again, reliving each self perceived mistake. In her dreams, she could still feel the way the growing blood puddle wet and warmed her skin through her fur. That was if she managed to fall asleep. Most nights she laid awake in her empty bed.

She still cried, an act that often took her by surprise. It was easier when she was outside the manse, she hid her cries far easier at a distance. Today had been one of those days. With glassy eyes, she sat on a patio, tucked away from the falling snow that continued to blanket the garden spanning before her. It was one of her secret favorites, though that wasn't a secret from Ahkoris, who often found her here. Closing her eyes, she battled tears, a depressing smile lifting just the corners of her mouth. Every memory hurt as much as the last and she couldn't help but wonder if she was capable of surviving this."speech"

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The fire that finally bloomed within him had long dried his tears. He held the flames close, using the warmth to fuel his drive to continue day to day, even if all he wanted to do was lay in bed. But the physiotherapists wouldn't let him, and neither would a few choice members of his family. Xandria, if she couldn't rouse him herself, would send in her children - Sif would do the same with hers. As if they knew his soft spot (what was left), Uncle Sethos would pull himself from the coziness of his bed and stumble off after the kids in whatever task they had conjured up. Diligently, he always went.

Today, however, they were all busy with other duties. He hadn't yet been cleared to return to the Army, and so he decided to be somewhat productive and at least be outside.

His legs had other plans though.

His forelimbs flexed as he stood, hind legs not exactly responding when he went to stand. He stumbled forward, having briefly forgotten - yet again - that this would happen from time to time, and plummeted chin first into the floor. He snarled, lips curling over his teeth as he waited for a few moments, allowing the waves of pain to wash over him again... and again... and again... until finally they ebbed. And then he tried again; flexing his muscles, relying on them to stilt his bones enough so that he could pull himself up.

He made it this time. A second later, and he was gulping down what was left of the painkilling herbs left on his nightstand. He hoped that one of the servants came by to see it empty while he was gone.

With a lingering growl, he left his room with stiff movements.

Unsure where he was headed, he allowed his nose to make the trail. Faint memories of the garden drifted through the grief that fogged his mind, and soon enough he found himself limping onto the patio. Except he wasn't alone - somehow, he had missed her scent.

Sethos froze at the sight of the widow, her striking marks upon her pelt unmistakable. She was the one wolf in the Manse he actively avoided. Ever since the funeral. Ever since he saw a massive part of her soul die with the bloody corpse he buried his face into. He swallowed, loudly, the muscles in his legs tensing to the point he couldn't move, not after the fall only a short moment ago.

Dead, dead, dead, came that familiar, ghostly voice.

"I can leave," he mumbled then, breaking the silence between them - as if he could make himself walk, as if he could convince himself that something wasn't permanently wrong with him. His fiery gems were slightly glazed as the painkilling effects settled in, but they never met the endless blue voids that were her eyes. He couldn't bring himself to, because then he would have to acknowledge, again, who was no longer here. As if he could ever forget.

code & art by claerie

I can leave.

Her back stiffened, noticeably. No longer alone, she was jerked from her memories and thrust back into her miserable reality. Sheer force of will would dry her tears. He had the courtesy to offer her her privacy back but he didn’t actually leave. There was no shuffling of paws or rustling of fur. That was what pulled her crystalline stare back towards him, the monochromatic woman looking over her shoulder at Sethos. She didn’t know the younger brother personally, but living under the same roof, avoiding each other was impossible, before and now. Before though, his fiery sunset stare didn’t bother her, the golden tones in his coat weren’t so achingly familiar, it was easy to offer him a benign smile. He was a far cry from being a twin, but Ahkoris and Sethos were obviously brothers. Dark lips pressed into a thin line only to avoid curling. It wasn’t his fault he was an unpleasant reminder. A cruelest part of her wanted to lunge at him, to chase him from the patio so she could wallow in peace for just a bit longer. But that would be far more than he deserved.

With a house full of servants, secrets were almost nonexistent at the manse. Murmurs spread through the halls following the war of the youngest Tiamat son and his life changing injury. In the wake of losing Nassar though, she hadn’t taken the time to truly learn anything more about him. Walking was a feat for him now if she’d heard correctly. If she did chase him off, he’d likely get tangled up in his own uncoordinated limbs. Glaring over her shoulder, she took in his stiff posture and the glazed look in his eye. Could he even walk away? A bitter thanks rested on the tip of her tongue, a less than polite dismissal of his presence here.

But something kept it behind the cage of her lips. He avoided her stare, as if he couldn’t handle the shadows that lurked in her glacial eyes. Blowing out a forced breath, she unsuccessfully tried to smooth her expression. “It’s fine.” It wasn’t, but a small voice in the back of her mind chided her. Whether it was Nassar or Ahkoris, she couldn’t be sure, but it whispered that she couldn’t drive everyone away forever. The snarky side of her silently asked ‘why not’.

Turning back to the falling snow, she fixed her stare on something, anything, besides Sethos. “Have a seat.” He was here, might as well make himself comfortable. Sybil was fairly certain the last thing she could stand was for him to tumble gracelessly at her paws and mortify the both of them. Surely he could manage that small mercy, for both of them. Dark ears lifted just enough from her skull to angle towards him, listening. Her body language was not anymore friendly, she made no effort to angle herself towards him, to open herself to conversation, she simply accepted that he was here."speech"

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He saw how her body visibly tightened, her body as tense as a tightrope. He expected her to tell him to leave, or yell at him, or even just say nothing as a response to his statement. He wouldn't blame her - it was only forced interactions that he had within the Manse as well, and he knew how much everyone was actively avoiding her. He wasn't the only one.

"It's fine," Sybil instead responded, and his ears tilted forward in surprise. Still, he didn't move, despite feeling the herbs begin to melt away at his frozen muscles.

"Have a seat," she then instructed, and instinctively, he sat. Not close to her, not even where someone would normally sit down, but right where he had been standing. The relief that flooded through his spine was intoxicating. For some reason, holding up his rear end took even more effort now, and he could only hope that that would ease with time. No one knew, though. No one even expected him to walk again.

Another swallow. Silence deafened the air around them, and he was brought back to his "date" with Onyxia. One mostly white, with an ebony muzzle and striking cold, ice blue eyes... she has described her attackers to be his own family. And Sethos sat here with exactly who she had described, and her dead lover.

"What a fucked up reality we live in..." he blinked, surprise colouring his face as he meant to just think that thought, but in his stupid hazy drugged bliss, he spoke it aloud. Orange eyes flickered to the woman, opening his mouth to apologize but nothing came out. For some reason, she was just so intimidating; the wife of his older brother, a Major in the Army, a powerful woman all in all. She had proven herself time and time again, and he then realized that she had earned the Tiamat name much more than he had. But at what cost? His eyes lingered on her for another moment before he pulled away again with a gentle sigh.

And as he watched the snow, he wondered that if Ahkoris was still alive, would he be sitting here right now with Sybil? Or would she be by his brothers side, off doing whatever it is that a power couple did? What a weird experience this all was, but maybe that was just his drugged up mind thinking.

Another lapse of silence.

"I miss him," he finally stated, a part of him sympathizing with her need to silence but also needing to get this out. "And mom. Xandria is hellbent on revenge again, and I'm going to go with her this time," why was he saying this? It wasn't like she'd care. But he spoke anyway, maybe hoping that this mindlessness of it all would somehow help the woman. "I have a suspicion I'm going to get kicked from the Army, too. I guess I'm really making my family proud, right after they died." That was stupid to say, he criticized immediately, wincing at his words. "So... I um, heard you took a leave. From the Army, I mean. Will you stay here, though?" I can't take more family leaving, he wanted to say, but wasn't sure if that was proper of him. Despite her marriage ending, he still considered her family.

code & art by claerie

When she invited demanded he sit, she didn’t think he’d sit right where he was. But that’s exactly what he did, his hindquarters plopping down with a muted thud, as if it took effort to hold himself up. It caused her to do a double take, her expression morphing into something that suggested she might think he wasn’t the brightest light in the chandelier. What an odd choice, though his eyes were glazed with the effects of something so maybe he wasn’t completely to blame. She wouldn’t say anything, letting him sit where he was in silence. That same silence stretched on and she was fine with it. It was tense, the air thick with mutual loss and everything that remained unsaid.

Sethos was the first to break that silence. What a fucked up reality we live in. She was so taken aback by his words, no matter their truth, that she actually laughed. It was a brief hah, a sound that lacked true humor and was a touch manic but it was a laugh nonetheless. A half smile barely lifted one side of her mouth before she turned crystalline eyes towards him. Her expression softened, so minutely that if he wasn’t paying attention he likely wouldn’t see it. He looked just as surprised by his outburst as she had been, it stretched her so called smile just a little bit more - at his expense. With his mouth open, presumably to say something, the silence stretched on when he said nothing. Sybil returned to watching the snow fall.

In the quiet, a fragile sort of peace lightened the air in her lungs, a temporary feeling at best. She was still a widow, but there was something nice about sitting beside someone else. He may have lost a brother and not a husband, but he still understood the loss, he still felt the earning for a wolf that would never walk these halls again.

Ahkoris had always been a man of few words, something that always gave what he did say more meaning. His brother on the other hand… Sethos started talking again. I miss him. It made her lip quiver all over again. With Sethos more or less seated behind her and her eyes trained on the snow laden garden, he wouldn’t see the way tears rose and threatened to spill. Only half listening, it took time for what he said to process. Xandria… revenge… “What?” She suddenly spun to face him. The movement was quick, quicker than she was capable of. She’d been trampled by that elk, evidence of it slicing through her pelt. The biggest concern had been her foreleg, it wasn’t broken but physicians were concerned about the strength of the bone. There had been whispers of a fracture, worsened by the immense stress of her lonely journey home. Pain shot up her leg and into her shoulder, causing her body to stiffen as she stumbled for a step and a low hiss to escape her clenched jaws. “Xandria is going after him?” She bit out, riding out a wave of pain in relative silence. Sybil had suffered worse pain in her youth, her body simply accepted it - especially when her mind was preoccupied. This was the first she’d heard of this plot. For a fraction of a moment, she wondered if Cairo knew. As quick as it came, that thought left. The promise of revenge had her full attention.

Sethos was prattling on about his army career though and unfortunately for him, Sybil’s patience had left Rionnach entirely. Her stare would sharpen, her lips pressing into a hard line. Still hung up on the promise of revenge, she couldn’t bring herself to truly care about his failing career. “Then stop slacking off and do something about it.” She snapped, probably with more force than necessary but it grated at her nerves. She wouldn’t let him place his failing career on the shoulders of Nassar or Ahkoris. Already standing and facing him, she stepped closer, subtly favoring her injured limb while remaining unfazed by his larger size. Ears once again flattened against her skull, her fur bristling with displeasure. He seemed to realize what he had said as he tried to steer the conversation in a different direction. He mentioned her leave from the army but rather than trying to talk her out of it, he wanted to know if she’d stay here. It caught her off guard. Sethos was the first to ask if she’d stay within the manse and the first to make her truly consider her options.

The force of her deflated as quickly as it had risen. Her expression went from something angry to something torn. The manse was her home, it had been for many years. But these walls were full of so many memories. Everywhere she went she was reminded of shared laughter with Nassar or quiet moments with Ahkoris. “I don’t know.” Was her honest answer, her gaze dropping briefly. Blowing out a quiet sigh, her shoulders sagged, insurmountable sadness twisting her visage. “This place is full of so many reminders.” Sleeping in her own bed was a sick joke. Every night she was wrapped up in the fading cologne of her husband, every night she faced the empty space he left beside her. She wasn’t sure how much more she could take."speech"

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"What?"

And just like that, Sethos shoved his foot in his mouth so far that he nearly gagged. Sybil came at him with the full force of her reputation, allowing him no space to move with her sharp words and direct questions.

“Xandria is going after him?”

He wanted to wilt away, immediately regretting opening up his dumb drugged mouth. Even though he had intentions of asking Ahkoris and Sybil to join him as he was pre-emptively assuming that Belfast would deny Xandria to go, all hopes of that were dashed when his brother had died.

"I-- was going to ask you and--" he choked, unable to say his name as he stared, wide eyed and horrified, at the suddenly very angry woman in front of him. His sights flickered from her face to her injured foreleg, watching as her body tensed with what he had recently become all too familiar with - physical agony. He shook his head, trying to backpedal but knowing he had now said too much. "I thought after-- maybe you wouldn't want to." he finally managed to get out, ears falling flat against his chocolate crown as sympathy and his own grief coloured his features.

And then he shoved off the anxiety, and looked directly at Sybil, into her cold eyes as he pulled up his Big Boy Boots and sternly muttered, "Cairo doesn't know. And she won't know."

He had babbled about his uncertainty with his career, and she stepped forward again, imposing on his personal space and setting his hackles ablaze with a trail of unease.

“Then stop slacking off and do something about it.” he couldn't help but growl at this. He wasn't slacking off, he was fucking physically incapable of doing anything if he wanted any chance at returning to duty. His mouth opened to retort, to lash back with how the injuries she currently sustained paled in comparison to a whole ass broken spine, but his teeth clicked shut a second later. She was a widow, she was grieving. She was already a caustic woman, not one that he wanted to tangle with.

And definitely not when the emotional pain she harboured was fierce. So he let it go - but man was that hard.

Though it seemed his questions on where her direction from here on out was pointed deflated her instead. I don't know, well neither do I sister. He remained silent, for now, as he desperately tried to assess her mental state and figure out beforehand how she'd react to what he would say.

"It is," he affirmed with a gusty sigh, then he shrugged. "if you want to stay, we could trade rooms. Maybe it'll feel... different." he offered. It probably sounded stupid, but at this point he didn't care. As scary of a woman she was, he just wanted to hear her laugh again.

code & art by claerie

WARNING: violence/gore

It was plain as day that Sethos was not prepared for the force of nature that was Sybil. His eyes grew wide and round and he looked at her like a deer caught in the headlights. But Sybil did not offer him a chance to stumble, to back pedal away from her questions and escape her. Sethos was caught in her web and he was here to stay until she said otherwise.

I-- was going to ask you and--

Ahkoris. He was going to ask Ahkoris and her to help him and Xandria. Sybil had a vindictive side, one that fed greedily when given the opportunity. An eye for an eye and Sybil would not rest. Ahkoris hadn't possessed such a vicious cruelty and she didn't fault him for it, but she knew he'd follow her to the ends of the earth if thats where she went.

Sethos eyes left her face and she didn't have to look down to know where his gaze went. But she ignored it and him. I thought after-- maybe you wouldn't want to. He thought wrong. A better wolf wouldn't have faulted him for assuming so. "I'll go." The way she said it, it wasn't up for debate. She needed to do something with the rage that infected her veins and set her body ablaze. Preferably before she imploded. A chaos brewed inside her, a storm that demanded release. And a release she would have, in the form of sinking her teeth into that bastards throat and felling his blood rush across her tongue.

For the first time since he invaded her patio, Sethos showed something akin to a backbone. Cairo doesn't know. And she won't know. Understanding flickered in her bright eyes. Sybil inclined her head in acknowledgement. They treaded dangerous waters under the newly crowned matriarch. What would she have to say about their man hunt? Sybil wasn't anymore inclined to ask than her siblings were to find out.

The younger brother that sat before was so different from his brother. He was softer, weaker, he didn't seem to possess that Tiamat fire that made this family so hotheaded. But when she jabbed at his career, he did manage a growl, though it was hardly enough to cause Sybil to backdown. No rebuttal came, no argument rolled off his tongue, no defense met her ears. It was a shame and had her staring glaring at him with more scrutinity. This soft Tiamat was an enigma.

Of all the things Sethos could have offered her, she certainly hadn't expected it to be his room. At first, all she could do was stare at him. But the beginnings of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. "Different?" She repeated the word, as if testing it out for herself. Then she giggled, the sound slipping passed her lips on its own accord. As if she needed anymore different right now. Another giggle, this one a touch more manic than the last. It certainly would be different, sleeping in the bed that smelled entirely of another man, a room that has been his probably most of his life. Bure more than that, to give up the one thing that still kept Ahkoris close, to give up the furs that still smelled of him if she buried her face in them deep enough.

When her laughter died, it was sudden, a sharp silence. "No." The possessive denial was rooted in needing to hang on to what she could, while she could. "Not... yet." She wasn't sure why she softened the blow of her rejection, the words tumbling off her tongue."speech"

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