Sibling Rivalry

This is an rp for:

Volpe
Magweno/Skjoldur

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Volpe drew his tongue over his teeth, cleaning them for the last of any berry juices. It wasn't often he found a sweet food choice, and the berries left his tongue a slight shade of blue. He sighed, he had somehow lost his way from one city to another, and was stuck wandering this Daila forsaken wood. He cringed inwardly, all he knew about it was that there was a waterfall rather close by, and what he could only assume as a pool beneath it.

Volpe walked forward, approaching the pool slowly. His wide paws dragged over the ground as he walked, checking where he put his foot before he stepped. He didn't want to trip and fall in to the water, he could only think it would be... less than pleasant.

He reached the side, washed his stained paws in the water, and lowered his head to drink. He enjoyed the cool, fresh water slipping down his throat and quenching his thirst. It wasn't often that Volpe stumbled across something like this. The only water source he usually fround was a swiftly flowing river or a puddle that had rest between rocks.

He shook his light, fawn coat, shaking off most of the dirt and dust that had stuck. His ribs were slightly visible beneath his skin, as they usually were, meals were harder to catch without sight. Nevertheless he looked healthy, his pelt shining- the fawn-like spots on his flanks catching the warm sunlight and reflecting some of it back.

Volpe sighed, unclipping his mask from his face, and splashed some water over his face, drawing the water over with his paw. He frowned when his sensitive pads touched upon the many scars on his face. He turned his head around, listening for any other Shinlai nearby, and set his mask to the side. He sat there, one paw dangling in the water, letting his thoughts wander.

Skjoldur padded through the forest in good spirits, mask and snout stained purple from snuffling out berries. Blaeberries were in season and also one of his favourite forest fruits to forage for. Those and girolle, those earthy golden mushrooms he so loved. He had seen tracks from another creature - probably Shinlai owing to the size - and was disinterested. In fact, he was going almost out of his way to avoid the tracks, as he was not in a sociable mood. His belly was full and he had been in enjoyable company up until this afternoon, he didn't fancy a social situation which easily had the potential to ruin his mood.

His recent burden to bear was an unsavoury encounter with uncontrollable brambles and Skjoldur was not one to lose control. Surely it had happened - well, months ago now - but it had shaken his standards and he was reluctant to relax, so traipsing through the woods sniffing out natures bounty was a small way for him to lose himself safely, as it were. His mind had been wandering onto light topics such as the season, when it would change and local fauna...

After spending hours walking, eating and idly thinking he had found himself on familiar ground, headed back to his current base of operations, Nirasi's waterfall. He was staying there for the winter, so had recently arrived and was settling in, but jaunts into the forest kept him on his toes and in touch with his more feral self.

He began to hear the roar of the waterfall - one got used to it after a time - and raised his head to smell the air. It was fresher around here, the mist enlivening the plants and invigorating the senses, sending shivers down his spine and drizzling dew on his fur. Arriving at the pool he gazed up at where he knew the cave was, then down to the entrance and suddenly his eyes fell on the other Shinlai. Presumably they had left the tracks, he drooped his head, one of Nirasi's friends most likely, he wondered who it was... Looking more closely his brows furrowed, the strange sense of familiarity was probably due to meeting them at a party or gathering.

Reluctantly he walked around the edge and across the little bridge at the apex of the pool, over to the Shinlai, who seemed pensive.

"Are you looking for Nirasi?" He asked bluntly. Often acquaintances would arrive at the waterfall then render themselves defeated, and as he lived with Nirasi most of the time he felt dutiful to his friend to show him the hidden entrance. The strange feeling of knowing this Shinlai wouldn't leave him though, something wasn't quite right, something he couldn't put his finger on...

Volpe lifted his head suddenly, tilting his head. He heard footsteps, large, lumbering footsteps. However they were soft, padded- quiet. Volpe knew the sound well enough to know what kind of creature they belonged to. Volpe's fur bristled at the shoulder and down his spine. He was unsure if the coming Shinlai would be friendly or hostile, and Volpe had met his share of each.

"Are you looking for Nirasi?"

Volpe fixed his gaze to look more at the Shinlai, although he still gazed slightly off, his eyes fixing over Skoldur's shoulder instead of intended at his face. All the scattered scars on Volpe's left side were in full view. Volpe's ees widened, he knew that voice. It startled him, hearing a voice from some of his earliest memories.

"No." Volpe answered bluntly, still puzzling over the voice. The voice he remembered was younger, a slight bit higher. The voice he heard now was deeper, that of a full grown male Shinlai. Volpe blinked, returning to the topic on hand. "No, I simply wandered to the waterfall. Although I've met Nirasi once before." Volpe paused, cocking his head curiously. "May I ask who you are?" Volpe's eyes narrowed at the thought. If this was whom he thought....

There was something very disturbing about this Shinlai, his voice, his strange familiarity, something was swimming just in the mists of Skjoldur's memory, lurking like a malevolent beast...

"May I ask who you are?

"My name is Skjoldur," he replied proudly, but didn't ask for Volpe's name. He wasn't interested, and the unsettling feeling making his hackles stand on end sent his feet jittering towards the waterfall. "If you'll excuse me, I am eager to go home and relax, but I can show you the path to the village if you like. You should be able to feel it once I have taken you there, it is well worn by others."

This last comment in passing was due to Volpe's blindness, which Skjoldur had picked up on subconsciously. When he was little he had a brother who had also been blind and-- Suddenly it hit him. He stood stock still, his back to Volpe, eyes wide and hair on end. His heart was pounding; this was Volpe, his little brother, blinded trying to use his Element, trying to keep up with his bigger brother, Skjoldur...

"My name is Skjoldur," It was then that Volpe realized who was before him. Not just the name, but the arrogance in how he spoke. His never dying pride. Of course, he didn't ask Volpe's name in return. Volpe would expect nothing less from him. After all, Skjoldur came first and foremost.

"If you'll excuse me, I am eager to go home and relax, but I can show you the path to the village if you like. You should be able to feel it once I have taken you there, it is well worn by others."

"I've lost all interest in the next village." Volpe sneered. He stood up, closed the distance between him and his "long lost" brother.

Volpe trotted up to Skjoldur's side, "What's the rush to leave? You weren't too keen on it earlier." Volpe darted in front of Skjoldur, blocking his path. "Tell me, Skjoldur, do you recognize me? I wouldn't put it past you to block me from your memory." Volpe's fur was bristled, his hackles raised. His eyes lit with furious anger. "After all, it's all about Skjoldur, right?"

"Tell me, Skjoldur, do you recognize me? I wouldn't put it past you to block me from your memory."

He did remember him, albeit only vaguely. Years in the forest and indifference toward his family had meant he had neglected any deep thought on such bitter matters and reprimand for bad behaviour was down to his own conscience. He didn't remember Volpe being so large, so acid, so aggressive, but then he didn't remember a huge amount about Volpe.

"After all, it's all about Skjoldur, right?"

He raised his head, fur still on end, and stood his ground, "Yes, I do remember you, Volpe," he half-lied, "I remember all the times we spent together... Playing... In the woods... How are mother and father?" He asked hesitantly, clumsily trying to diffuse the situation with hollow questions.

Volpe heard Skjoldur's hesitation. He waited, anger seething quite clearly just below the surface.

"Yes, I do remember you, Volpe,"

Volpe's lip curled, unwilling to believe Skjoldur. Volpe felt Skjoldur raise his head, knew that his brother stood at least a foot over him. Volpe stood at 9 feet while Skjoldur was nearly 11. Volpe raised himself up too.

"I remember all the times we spent together... Playing... In the woods... How are mother and father?"

"And yet you sound awfully unsure, brother." Volpe spat the word, like it was vile, an insult. He snorted, "I wouldn't know how they are. I left not long after you. Masked at 15, just like you. You should have heard them after you left. A never ending stream of how much they missed dear Skjoldur." Volpe knew Skjoldur well, years of trying to be like him grew familiarity. He recognized bringing up mother and father as a change of subject. Volpe didn't drop his aggressive attack though. "Even after you were gone there was no living up to Skjoldur...." Volpe trailed off, voice bitter.

"Enough about me," Volpe smirked bitterly. "How have you been brother? Enjoying life on your own?" Volpe's questioned had a hint of mocking to it. Like he was speaking down to Skjoldur.

Volpe's sour rendition of life after he left painted a sad picture. He let guilt start to take over his senses and became immediately defensive, raising his head higher; he was close to stepping back. If he lowered his head those ornate antlers of his would be at head-level with Volpe, and he didn't want his angry, blind brother to be accidentally hurt by him any more. With an aggressive stance and a heavy, thumping heart, he looked down on his brother again.

"Enough about me, how have you been brother? Enjoying life on your own?"

"Yes," he replied hastily, "It's good, although I have friends-- ... a friend now, which is new..." He trailed off, frantically thinking of how to run away from this nasty situation, "Masked at 15, that's great, I bet Father was proud..." He noted that Volpe wasn't wearing it and looked around, spying it by the side of the pool. "It's wonderful, was it the same artisan who made mine?"

As soon as the words left his lips he closed his eyes in frustration with himself, the day he had been masked he had been incorrigibly full of himself. His mask was maple burl, hand carved, stained and varnished, very expensive and he was very proud of it. He hardly ever took it off and was disturbed by Volpe's scarred and hostile face, "Does it fit you well?" He asked quietly, in almost a whisper, willing himself to stop digging, to stop perpetually putting his foot in it...

"Yes, it's good, although I have friends-- ... a friend now, which is new..."

Volpe was honestly surprised to hear Skjoldur wasn't surrounded by friends. His eyes narrowed, fighting a tang of pity. He didn't want to feel bad for Skjoldur, why would he? The one who should be pitied right now was himself.

"Masked at 15, that's great, I bet Father was proud..."

"I wouldn't know. I never thought him quite so easy to read. He was far more animated around you. Mother seemed happy enough... I suppose because she was Light herself.

"It's wonderful, was it the same artisan who made mine?"

Volpe's eyes drifted over to the mask. "Is it? I've never actually seen it myself. I've been told what it looks like, but it doesn't quite compare to actually seeing it." Volpe paused, letting it sink in. He wondered if Skjoldur even knew it was his fault Volpe was blind. "It was a younger artisan, actually, an apprentice of the one who made yours I believe. I'm not too fond of it, actually. It reminds me of the day you got your mask. I trust you remember it well? You were bragging for quite a while, boastful as I've ever seen you."

"Does it fit you well?"

Volpe shrugged, "It used to fit awkwardly, I had a friend fix it for me. I left in too much of a hurry to take it back to the artist. I didn't stick around home for very long at all, and I'm sure you understand why."

"Neither did you, for that matter. Never once came back. Mother and Father miss you terribly. I swear they missed you too often to remember me. I trained my own element to earn my mask."

"I've been told what it looks like, but it doesn't quite compare to actually seeing it."

Turning his head to look at his mask, Volpe opened a window for Skjoldur. His fearsome sightless eyes had been boring into Skjoldur's shoulder and pinning him in place; suddenly Skjoldur realised that Volpe could not see. It sounded stupid, but he had been fixedly keeping eye-contact as if kept at bay by some horrific predator, staring him down. His tense muscles twitched and relaxed a slight touch, he took that step back, and began to focus more on what Volpe was telling him, rather than what his body language was saying.

He cleared his throat, thinking of the day Volpe lost sight in one eye, how disappointed their parents had been, how he had partly lost faith in his little brother for being such a renegade... How he had wished he had such a sense of adventure, and fun, and a willingness to get into such situations. Guilt swirled like a storm inside him, recognising his complete incompetence as an older brother and how he should have been there to protect little Volpe.

"Neither did you, for that matter. Never once came back. Mother and Father miss you terribly. I swear they missed you too often to remember me. I trained my own element to earn my mask."

"I trained myself," Skjoldur replied hastily, "They just... Well... Taught me discipline and

Volpe sighed, glancing once more at Skjoldur. His brother's skull was as thick as stone. He snorted, he didn't understand how Skjoldur could be so... so blind. It was like speaking to a child. He didn't realize the consequence of his actions. Would he ever?

Volpe jerked his head towards Skjoldur, at the sound of his footsteps backing up. He raised a brow. "What's wrong, brother? Tell me you aren't done listening? I've quite a bit more to say."

"I trained myself," Skjoldur replied hastily, "They just... Well... Taught me discipline and..."

"Your missing the key phrase there, 'they taught you'..." Volpe growled softly and moved out of the way, slinking around Skjoldur. He slowed as he neared the edge, carefully feeling for the water with his paws. He settled at the banks and crouched to drink, seemingly ignoring Skjoldur. "Must have been nice, to have parents that offered there help, hm?" Volpe called, over his shoulder.

(Volpe's so melodramatic :P )

((Woops, some well-meaning family member must have posted that for me - ah the scourge of a communal computer! I hadn't finished writing, but he probably would have just trailed off anyway X3))

It was time to turn the tables, time to be that big brother and show him how to act. He tossed his head, tired of biting his tongue, "Volpe, you are being unfair. Our parents treated me no different to you, I just listened to them. When they said go and collect firewood, I did. When they asked to clean the den, I would. When they demanded that I be quiet, I was. You would bite back, create mess, disappear for hours without even letting Mother know where you were going. You make it seem like I was the favourite child - it's because I spent YEARS being told what to do! That's how I learnt discipline! And that's how they taught me! You just chose not to listen or to see!"

Inadvertently Skjoldur was winding himself up. As he tried to explain his voice became faster and more high pitched. By the time he had finished his fur was on end and he was convinced be was being hard-done-by.

"They never 'offered their help', I had to seek it," He continued, starting to pace behind Volpe, "I was constantly at Father's heel begging him to show me how to hunt like he could. Did you ever watch him when he walked? He always put one foot directly in front of the other so he didn't break twigs and make noise; so I would follow his footprints. Did you do that? No! You would go tearing off into the woods making a racket and scaring all the game, no wonder you got yelled at all the time, you were so frustrating!"

He saw plants whipping around his feet; when he got agitated plant matter would spring into life and the air would tingle with energy; his mask was sprouting shoots and honeysuckle vines were creeping around the forest floor. Taking a deep breath and closing his eyes he tried to calm down.

"Volpe, I didn't force Mother and Father to like me or to hate you, I just... I was selfish in that I didn't share the things I was learning with you. I just thought that if you didn't pick up on them - like the footprints - then it was a kind of... survival of the fittest... kind of thing, do you see what I mean?"

Every word Skjoldur spoke hit Volpe hard. He wanted to deny everything Skjoldur said, but it was true. Volpe had his own priorities, his own agenda. He didn't have to listen to his mother and father to get by, he did just fine on his own. He hunted when he was hungry, drank when he was thirsty. He never cleaned the den because he was hardly there or built a fire because he was rarely cold. And it hurt to hear it all the more now that Volpe's ribs were clearly visible through his fur, he had to pause and ever-so-slowly make his way to the riverbank to drink for fear of falling in. Life was hard now, even if it had been so easy before.

"Volpe, I didn't force Mother and Father to like me or to hate you, I just... I was selfish in that I didn't share the things I was learning with you. I just thought that if you didn't pick up on them - like the footprints - then it was a kind of... survival of the fittest... kind of thing, do you see what I mean?"

Volpe saw the opportunity to get a word in, another way to guilt Skjoldur, and he didn't waste it. He turned back to face his brother, tossing his own antlers with frustration.

"Selfish," he said, turning back to face Skjoldur. "That's the perfect word for it isn't it? You were selfish. Survival of the fittest? I was best in that category wouldn't you think? I didn't need anyone's help, I didn't need anything they showed you! And then this happened!" Volpe gestured to his face. "I got by just fine with half my eyes. But trying to be better than you I lost the other three. And suddenly, I couldn't survive without help. Yet you still didn't help, no one did. Then I asked how to hunt, how to walk silently, how to get by! No one helped. Because once they wrote me off I suppose there was no redemption? And you didn't help either. My own brother wouldn't look out for me." He was breathing heavily, his anger clear.

(Sorry for the late post!)

"HOW COULD WE," he said with a roar, anger flaring in him at this injustice, "you always worked so hard to make it clear to us that you didn't need help! You didn't want help! When you became blind your natural strength made it impossible for us - me - to help, it would have cause you so much pain to be pitied. Admit it, how would you have felt if we had constantly been showing you how you were wrong? Where would your self confidence be now, having to rely on people all the time? It's just never been your nature to be the underdog."

Honeysuckle vines were writhing at the bickering brothers' feet, twining themselves up Skjoldur's legs and lashing out around Volpe dangerously. Skjoldur was losing his concentration, so desperate was he to make his point.

"As for it being my fault, that's like saying I forced you to be angry. Like it was my fault you were born with a stupid adventurous nature. It wasn't my choice for you to rush ahead of yourself and go blind." He suddenly bit his tongue, tears springing to his eyes, the anger giving way to huge untapped wells of emotion... "It was not my fault, Volpe. Why can't you see that?"

((ouch))

Volpe snorted angrily, stomping out some of the whipping red flowers at his feet. He growled, and his own element started to get loose. Tiny orbs of light floated around him, many of them going out with a short, bright flash that left lingering "imprints". Controlling ones element under anger or pressure never ran strong in the family.

Where would your self confidence be now, having to rely on people all the time? It's just never been your nature to be the underdog. It was not my fault, Volpe. Why can't you see that?"

"Because it's not true! Everything can be traced back to you!" Volpe shook his head, growling. This conversation was going nowhere. Each brother was simply too stubborn, each believing their argument was more valid. Volpe raised his head, looking Skjoldur in the eye- somehow guessing correctly just where his eyes were. "I don't know why I even bothered bringing this up. I've accomplished nothing." He spoke calmly, but his voice had such a resenting bite to it- it couldn't have been that much worse if he shouted it. "You're still the same stubborn, self-absorbed, idiot brother I remember. You've been dead to me for years now as no doubt I've been dead to you. You didn't even recognize me...." Volpe growled.

He was furious that Volpe thought the life of misery he had brought upon himself was his fault, he could think of so many things to say but the sheer frustration of the matter meant that he could not get his words right. As Volpe squared up and glared him in the eye he just held his trembling lip and fought the urge to headbutt him.

As a young pup Skjoldur was known in his family for having occasional outbursts of fury, generally when his personal space was invaded or Volpe was successful in winding him up. As he grew older he learnt to control his temper, but the flashing lights and veritable hurricane of vines that surrounded the two brothers now showed that fever pitch was soon to be reached. The lights irritated Skjoldur and he thought Volpe was doing it intentionally, which sent the vines reaching higher.

Skjoldur growled back, a feral, ferocious sound, and sidestepped Volpe, heading for the waterfall, head low, hackles raised. His whole body trembled with the effort to not bump or kick Volpe as he passed, so angry was he that violence was the only solution he could see. He wanted to yell at Volpe, to tell him how stupid he was, how unfair he was being, how he had tried (which of course he hadn't), but he knew all that would come out would be cutting and unnecessary insults. He allowed himself one retort as he slunk off: "I wish you would die."

Many things have been said in the heat of moments and this was one of those moments. Skjoldur did not really wish for his brother to die, he was fond of Volpe but had a horrific sense of failure when he remembered their childhood. He saw himself as a generous, wise and kind Shinlai and knowing that he had treated Volpe so badly cut him in half. Volpe did not make it easier, pouring salt on the wounds, and it was hugely unfortunate that the conversation between the two reunited parties had soured so quickly.

Volpe lowered his head too, raised his own hackles, his fur down his neck and back bristling with aggression. He heard Skjoldur move and braced himself for a blow from his brother's wide paws or his sweeping antlers. He was almost dissapointed when Skjoldur stepped carefully around him, slinking by to the edge of the waterfall.

Volpe followed him with his eyes, as was a habit- like he could still see. He once respected his brother, looked up to him as a role model, aimed to be just like Skjoldur. One day, Volpe realized he could be more than him, and it cost him dearly. It soured his relationships- all of them- and soured Volpe too.

"I wish you would die."

The final words hit Volpe like a kick to the gut and he looked after Skjoldur, stung badly. His brow furrowed, his muzzle twisting as a terrible snarl rose from his throat. Those words were the last straw to break his will to hold back. They were enough to even make cowardly Volpe turn and swipe his paw in one smooth motion against Skjoldur, catching his flank with his claws. He wheeled on Skjoldur, raising himself on his hind paws and striking out with his wide-spread forpaws- clawing at whatever he could catch.

((Had a couple glasses of wine so sorry if this is senseless!))

Skjoldur was mentally patting himself on the back for not resorting to violence when the stinging swipe caught him in the backside. Leaping forward, he inadvertently yelped and swung round to defend himself, biting low at his unforeseen attacker, tail between his legs. Volpe had by this time lurched upwards so Skjoldur snapped down on empty air and Volpe missed his mark, crashing down with his full weight on Skjoldur's back. The two collapsed, and Skjoldur struggled to right himself, antlers tangled in the frantic vines, paws scrabbling in the air and the inadvertent blunt force to his spine sending shooting pains up and down his back. He whimpered, cowardly, caught off-guard, in a sensitive position and frantic to disentangle himself, and that moment was the time his element came into play.

The sheer ferocity of the situation coupled with the pair currently writhing on the ground meant that the vines were in their prime. Skjoldur was unintentionally lending life to their leafy green limbs and as such they fought with a mind of their own: shooting forwards they strapped the two to the ground, rooting themselves firmly and piling layer upon layer of lattice-worked mesh over them; Skjoldur was still distraught and panicking, writhing and fighting against the wave of greenery but it was relentless. His chin was smashed violently against the ground, his limbs splayed and bound, his antlers tugged from many directions and Volpe was treated in a similar manner. Soon nature had veritably bound the two in a headlock to the earth and not an inch of leeway was to be given.

Skoldur grunted and sniffled, trying to kick his legs, but the vines held firm. All this had happened in thirty seconds or so to the feuding siblings, such was the uncontrollable and immense power of this one young Shinlai's element, an element he thought - and his family had though - he had trained so well.

(Nope! It makes perfect sense :) )

Volpe flailed his paws in the air, hoping to catch Skjoldur by sheer luck. He managed to at least push the larger brother over, causing him to land with a ground-shaking thud on his back. Volpe barked with surprised when he slipped and was kicked off.

He slipped and landed belly down on the ground, struggling to find his footing below him. The wind was momentarily knocked out of him and delayed him from getting up. The very ground felt like it was writhing below him, and he growled with frustration as they lashed against his legs and catching his own sweeping antlers. In no time at all Volpe felt himself binded to the ground, his legs tied in layers and layers of honeysuckle. Stems twisted around his neck and chest, pulling him closer to the ground. Ivy climbed his antlers and tugged at his head. Volpe tried frantically to stand. He shook his head and tugged, fighting the vines. It was no use though, they pulled him to the ground.

"Skjoldur you moron!" Volpe barked, trying to avoid vines smothering him. He still struggled to stand, rolling his shoulders and raising his hackles like twin peaks. However the harder he struggled the stronger the vines gripped. "Now look what you've done!" Volpe summoned his own element, strengthening the sun through the trees, treating it much like a magnifying glass. It did nothing though, whenever the slightest hint of fire began to catch the vines curled in on themselves, smothering the spark.

In his own frustration Volpe's lingering orbs of light grew brighter and brighter, not only likely hurting eyes but feeding the plants. "You screw up everything! Even when it can't possibly get any worse! You somehow find a way!"

He whimpered nasally in reply, arguing through clenched teeth - the vines were holding his head down tight. "Itsh not my fault," he said again and wriggled a little which encouraged the plants to hold on tighter. He winced as the light got brighter and the greens flourished, kicking his legs, using his claws to cut the stems, but the agitation made everything worse. Shaking his head he tried to use his antlers to sweep plants away, tearing rents in the earth.

After a few minutes of struggling he let out a sigh and collapsed. This is stupid, relax... He thought. The light was hurting his eyes, so he closed them. The plants settled into a lace-like blanket and apart from sounds of Volpe wriggling and the crash of the waterfall, everything was still.

"Volpe, 'm shorry I washn't there for you when we were shmall," he said, jaw still held tight. He paused, waiting for Volpe's reply.

"Itsh not my fault,"

Volpe shook his head, strained the powerful muscles in his neck and shoulders, struggling to get up. The most he managed was arching his back slightly, as soon as he let up his pulling he was slammed back into the ground from the sheer weight on him. "Well who's fault is it?" He hissed sarcastically.

Volpe felt Skjoldur quit his struggling, but Volpe was never one to back down in his pup years, and he certainly wasn't loosing to a grove of plants. He struggled for the minutes Skjoldur lie still, fighting needlessly against the vines. He was gaining no ground whatsoever, instead tangling himself more. He finally fell panting back to the ground, letting the plants tangle in his tail and mane, tugging his head to the ground by his antlers.

"Volpe, 'm shorry I washn't there for you when we were shmall,"

Volpe paused, but there was no mistaking what Skjoldur said. He had learned not to doubt his keen hearing. "I'm sorry too." He paused. Luckily his horns propped his head off the ground a little bit, his antlers didn't allow room to rest his head (he always laid his head to rest on his paws) so his speech came out clearly. "I'm sss..." He swallowed a lump in his throat, taking a shuddering breath. The light flitting around calmed to the normal 'fireflies' they usually were. "I'm sorry I'm so bitter. I'm sorry it's so hard for me to forget." He paused, glaring at the ground.

He didn't always hate Skjoldur. He loved to play in the springs with him, splashing water at eachother. He used to adore wrestling with his stronger, well-muscled brother. He had many fond memories of him, but had buried them beneath years of resentment. "I forgive you," he whispered. He didn't want to, but he realized he couldn't hate forever. Not only did it weigh on him, it weighed on Skjoldur.

I'm sorry too Skjoldur opened his eyes and looked over to Volpe. I'm sorry I'm so bitter. I'm sorry it's so hard for me to forget. I forgive you.

He lay still, listening to the waterfall. All he could think about was how crazy the past couple of hours had been and let old memories build and break gently in his mind, like waves of recollection. He let them wash over him for a while.

"Remember that time I stole Dad's pipe?" He said eventually, "I wanted to look sophisticated. He was so angry when he found out it was missing, do you remember his face?" He grinned goofily, chuckling softly to himself, "Mum hated that pipe... She was so happy when it disappeared..."

He was exhausted and the vines were still tense, but in more of a natural bond rather than a Shinlai-driven furore. They had relaxed enough for his speech to be clear, but he was enjoying being close to the earth and watching the 'fireflies' floating around.

Volpe's eyes drifted skyward. He drew up on memories of the evening sunset, trying desperately to remember the beauty of the oranges, yellows, and pinks. A masterpiece of the Earth. He had never appreciated those colors, rarely stopped to marvel at the beauty of nature. He sensed the sun's position in the sky, knew that it was sunset. He smiled to himself, finally finding a memory of it.

"Remember that time I stole Dad's pipe? I wanted to look sophisticated. He was so angry when he found out it was missing, do you remember his face? Mum hated that pipe... She was so happy when it disappeared..."


Volpe chuckled himself. He did remember it. He had taken it at Skjoldur's suggestion while his brother kept watch. He could have sworn his mother saw him, but returned to talking with her mate. Later, the two brothers had tried to smoke it themselves, only to have wretched coughing fits.

"Or, another time I had found that bear cub on the edge of the woods and called you over to see? Do you remember how we were chased from the woods all the way to the village with the mother on our tails?" Volpe snorted, amused. "I remember scrambling up a low tree branch- how I managed that is still a mystery to me!"