Day to Day, Drink by Drink

[Anonymous]

Life was rough sometimes, this not being one of those days. Having just come out from the fields, the day nearly over, Brandir found himself reclining in his bed, gurgling down some watered ale. It wasn't really the best thing to drink, and the taste was usually revolting, but it was cheap -- and after a ten- or twelve-hour day in the hot sun, well, broiled mud would taste like heaven on the hoof.

As he took a swig from his jug, Brand stared into the roof, boring into it with all the force of an almighty drill god... thing. Bah. I never was very good with analogies, he thought as the jug left his mouth with a satisfting 'pop.' He wiped the residue from his mouth, still intent on the ceiling of his plain wooden shack, a stare that would be the same awe-filled look as if the walls were diamond, and a chandelier hung from the top point. Alas, it wasn't to be; and, to be honest, Brand never was one for fancy circumstances. All that pomp and purpose... What was the real use of it? All it was, was pretty trappings on an existence rendered null and void.

"... What would you do, if you were here...?" The words escaped as barely a murmur, but their aftershocks rang through the young farmer's head for several minutes thereafter. Chapa, that foolish bastard. He'd gone and left him all alone, all of his trust shattered, every bone of his psyche broken beyond logical repair. Why hadn't he fought? Why...?

Best not to think too much, he decided at last, his contemplation ending with a nice gulp of the ale. If he thought too much, he'd just get sucked into an endless whirlpool of sorrow, depression, and most of all, rage. Rage at Chapa, at his former tribe, at himself... It was about time to water the crops, and so Brand cut his break short, slapping down his ale and staggering off through his door into the garden he cultivated just outside.

Brandir's two hands trembled briefly, taking on a slight bluish-white glow, the direct results of his special magic. 'O salt of the waterless sea, lend me your power. O tide of the endless current, lend me your wisdom' That was the mantra repeated again and again in the young mage's head, the keycard to his vault of power. Slowly at first, but steadily, the blue aura that encompassed Brand's outstretched fingers shuddered into a new, liquid form, clear water, sparkling in the late-day sun.

His left foot slid against the muddy pathway, as his right flipped back in a swirl. Brand's arms swiped forward and above like a pair of shears, noticeably rippling the sky, as he swung back his elbows, landing semi-gracefully against the ground in a leaned-back position. The fruits of his labor showed itself quickly enough, as a swift downpour sprinkled the cabin and garden, the bright, shining liquids splashing against the ground, and against Brand's own face. The 'rain' subsided, and the farmer shook his head side-to-side, washing away most of the water that had fallen upon it.

It was always a refreshing feeling, that little pattern he'd devised a few weeks back during a dry season. True, now the rains had returned, but this was by far the better of the two choices granted him. Elbows gave way to grasping palms, as Brandir hoisted himself up to his feet, ready to face the world (or what was left of it) head on. After a quick check-in with his ale, Brand readied his traveling robes -- he usually wore just his undertunic when he was working -- locked up (as best he could), and set off towards the pub.

"Hello, Brandir!"

"Hey, it's Brandir! How goes it, man?"

"Keep it hangin' low!"

Honestly, Brand could never quite figure out what his third neighbor meant by that. Was it in reference to phallic might, a firm grip on reality... what was it? Well, it didn't really matter to him; he always did seem retarded. Still, Brand bucked up his courage, and waved, and chanted his mantra of "Hello, how are you?" as always. Again honestly, he couldn't give any less of a damn than he already did. Fools should be left to be fools; he would pursue his ambitions by himself. He didn't need to 'hang low,' goddammit.

Throughout the town, the nomad-turned-farmer came upon many other familiar faces, and each was greeted by the proper courtesies. It had grown tiresome, but... It was a social necessity, he had discovered. Besides, he at least owed it to himself to keep a low profile. It'd be bad enough if someone had stumbled across his little magic trick, but being ostracized in his own place of residence was NOT on the plan sheet.

The pub doors swung open, creaking in all their infinite crappiness, as Brandir stepped into the tavern. A quick glance around found a few patrons, mostly the usual suspects; there was Jack, the drunkard ruffian (Brand could swear he'd heard of some sort of drunk fist thingy this guy used, but thankfully, he'd never been privy to it), and  the red-nosed, rosy-cheeked bartender. The rest of the gang was there, as well -- John, Sarah, Ben...

"The usual, ale?" The bartender asked jovially, already knowing the answer, as Brand slid into his assigned seat at the bar. He gave a quick, acknowledging nod, and muttered, "Yeah, that'll be fine."

Never mind that he said that every time, and it was more than fine. The real stuff was great to splurge on, and Brand made just enough extra on the side with his odd jobs to afford a drink every once and a while. As he gargled the concoction, and swished it around before at last swallowing it, Brand smiled coherently, allowing himself the luxury of a chuckle after he'd finished the first swig.

"You run a damn fine bar, y'knowl...!! Don't ever change, eh?"

"Yep. Thank'cha, buddy."

The exchange was, again, typical, but this was one fellow Brand could actually open up to, if he so desired. He meant what he said; he said what he meant. To Brand, there could be no greater compliment.

[Anonymous]

What was it that caused people to enter a place to fill their body with unecessary things such as alcohal? It only intoxicated the body, filling it with a temporary poison. This was never fully comprehended by either of the twins. Except, Amaie, as usual, tried to understand and come up with the conclusion, after careful questions and observations, that it unwinds people and allows them to relax. While others, well, it brings them way past the apex of languid into an entirely new state of raging alcohalism, something so very much like a disease, a dependecy on the only cure of the very disease itself. It was something in the drink, thus she was even more wary of the various liquids.

Whereas, her polar opposite, Kieli, just couldn't understand. If you knew the consequences why would someone fill their body with THAT? And heightening the chances of alcohalism.. well, to him it was plain stupid. Then again, maybe he just didn't want to understand that someone would deliberately do that, of course having to moderate it, just to relax. To him, it seemed like a round-about way to do something when you can just do something else to enter a peaceful and relaxed state. But you'd never know he'd know some other way - he was wound very tight for a boy of eightteen. Either way, it wasn't his choice to go into the Tavern. Certainly not.

It wasn't even his choice to be IN Adela. No, no. Never. But his sister had this crazy idea. To her, a wonderful idea. One so brilliant, something she MUST do, she had dragged him into the tavern. Of course, as soon as he was in a certain proximity of the building he smelled the liquor - his heightened senses allowed this - and he thought maybe Amaie was going crazy. Could she not smell that horrible stench? But of course, she seemed to tug him along whereever she went. He was like her personal rag doll, something he never understood since he was 6 minutes older. A full 6 minutes and she had the gall to haul HIM around. By the time it occured to him to refuse he was already standing in the tavern, his sister gripping his wrist enthusiastically.

Kieli noticed how his sister didn't fit in. He noticed it right away. She had snowy, porcelain skin, white hair to her hips. He also realized she had cleaned up to enter the village - wearing a simple plain white dress, which he knew must have made her fingers ache to wash. He also recognized the straw hat, lovingly made, her sandals (something he was forced to by her) and her light blue eyes that danced with an excitement he couldn't explain.... And he shuddered with soft disgust, how she so willingly bent herself to conform, to look clean for these people she didn'tknow. While he, HE was dirty, but not disgustingly so, like someone who had been walking around a village all day, with plain slacks, bare feet and tunic, his black hair disheveled and his bright eyes narrowed.

He didn't want to be here. Could it be any more obvious? But she did, could that be any more obvious?

"Brother! Look," she murmured gleefully, tugging at his sleeve like a little kid might.

"They're people. Geeze, it's not like you haven't seem them before," he snapped.

"But it's been months," she answered, unoffended by his lack of enthusiasm.

She left her brother like a whirlwind of movement, sitting at the bar, her hat the only thing left in her brother's grip as she peered curiously around the bar, sniffing the air. She hardly realized the man next to her - he seemed a bit older then her. Her nose twitched again, and she could barely contain her movement - fidgetting. She wondered when her brother was going to drag her out, vaguely so. But she knew he was humoring her - for now.

"Wow! I've never been in a tavern before," she said in her soft voice, eyes flittering around her, barely noticing her brother's heavy, possessive hand on her shoulder as he sat down beside her.

Receiving an urging glance from her brother - as she held the social skills of the two - she turned slightly to Brandir.

"Excuse me sir," she said softly, a smiling accompanying it.

"What is this village called?" She asked with her eagerness, her brother mumbling something about her being daft.

(hope it's good enough. i haven't rped them in awhile.. and i suck at first replying to other people)

[Anonymous]

(( OOC: If that was a rusty post, I sure as hell would like to see a full-fledged post. Awesome. o_o ))

Drinking a little fine ale like this makes one remember, remember and forget both. As was typical, Brandir's thoughts drifted to his fallen friend, but not to his death, but to the happy times they shared. Running contests, long walks, strong-arm training... Brandir lifted his small shot glass, murmured a blessing, and downed it wholeheartedly.

By the time that these twins had entered the bar, Brandir had already reached his sixth shot. 'Bah,' went the mind; 'Feh,' went the heart; and, as he turned, 'Ooh,' went the crotch. Brand's head twitched slightly as he swivelled to fully meet the pair, shaking out the carnal lust that so made him desire to throw her down on the bar and...

. . . . . . .  Enough of that shiz.

"Eh? Hello! Welcome, weary travelers, to the village and kingdom of Adela!" Brand's voice was happy and bright -- all fake, of course, but by this time he'd had some experience in masking his true face -- as he extended a hand out towards Kieli. "Brandir de Arrosez, at your service, sir and ma'am. Happy tidings to 'ye, happy tidings." Maybe that was a bit too much? If he laid it on too thick, he might be discovered, but if he just went all willy-nilly and acted like an ass, he wouldn't get very far, either. Damn that girl for throwing off his perceptions!

.... the boy wasn't that bad a looker, either, come to think...

. . . . . . . . Enough of that shiz.

All he could do, now, was to wait, and to restrain his lustful side from tackling these two. Y'know, compared to the butt-uglies in the rest of the town, you could tell these two were something special... Didn't hurt they were half as young as the rest, either, closer to Brand's age...

. . . . . . . . . Feh.

(( Crappy post, I know. I just haven't had much experience in these sorts of situations, either. I hope I did well enough... ))

[Anonymous]

(lmao, you did fine! and that made me feel awesome, your character's reaction to my luff's, lol!)

So, they were in the village and kingdom of Adela, hm? How lucky for Kieli, who felt as if his heart would implode, he felt that the walls and the smells were constricting him. Buildings never were well with him, they contained something. It reminded him of caged animals, they'd pace and pace, searching, searching for an escape until the fire and the will simply fled from their eyes. And he despised that possible future, it was a fear that drove him far from the reaches of humanity and deep into the clutches of the wilderness, of the nature, of the woods.

Thus, he had only nodded, barely aware until hand was outstretched to him. In reality, he wanted to flinch away from the touch, afraid it'd draw him nearer and enclose him in a darkness he'd never escape. And it was this paranoia, this fear that crawled up his neck, but it was all scared away when his sister's light blue eyes danced across his face. It stared into his brighter one's, those glorious bright blue eyes that softened as she drove away those silly fears, mouthing, "It's okay." to her brother. Because his thoughts, his dreams, and his fears all echoed inside her. Her hand even travelled, diagonal and landed on the hand still heavy on her shoulder. His fingers curled into her, gripping, her soothing fingers pressed against the band of his hand until he leaned over and finally took Brandir's hand.

A quick shake, gripping it with his vaguely soft, roughened and scarred hand, doing the necessary greeting with a slight reluctance. Once it was over his hand recoiled sharply, twisting the pantleg of his slacks in his fingers, but calming down under the constant and gentle administrations of a stroke over his hand. She could always comfort him - and he was always being comforted. He could remember the times when he wanted to wrap her up in his strong arms, and hold her and comfort her.... And she wouldn't let him. While Amaie was so willing to help, she was also very willing to discard herself quietly, and terrorize her mind and endure her inner torture and lock herself away from him and everyone. And that worried him.

"I'm Amaie and this is my brother, Kieli. Very much the same too you and thank you so much," she replied cheerily, although her's was no mask. It was honest to goodness happiness.

Amaie accessed him with the silent attentiveness, and soft, kind eyes like she did everyone else. But they held a trust, as she so willingly gave to everyone (something her brother truly detested). With a smile she could already feel the anger and panic rising back inside her brother. Did Brandir cause him to be anxious? Or was he just anxious because of the smell and the company? She understood there was something... No. Perhaps she was the one a little off.

"Amaie," he ground out in a harsh growl.

She raised her eyebrows curiously, crossing her right leg over her left daintily as she leaned back slightly to her brother. She gave him that same warm smile, endearing even, as she sat there. It was clear she was willing to compromise and do whatever she could to help him get over his stubborn hatred of everything associated with villages.

"Let's go," he said, but he didn't move.

"No. Let's stay. It's been near six months and I've missed people very much, brother. May we please stay, if only a little longer? Kieli, it really will be okay. I promise to the heavens, that it really will," she murmured softly, reaching out and touching his face and turning to look at Brandir.

"How're you today, Mr. Brandir? And what's this place like?" She asked it all eagerly, and the genuine look said she wasn't asking out of etiquette - but true care.

Amaie's heart belonged to everyone. And she lived by a fierce set of rules, and she loved and worried about everyone to the best of her abilities. Because.. she could. Too her, that was what living was about. It didn't matter if they hated her or not, because she'd have a select few who'd care about her, and that would be enough. Or so she hoped. In reality, she needed to love everyone else. Because their was nothing more than she hated other than herself. And she needed her mind off her and onto other things.

And with that said, it's so easy to say Kieli is the opposite. Because, he is. It was how he was born. And sometimes he really regretted that.

[Anonymous]

These two seemed an off pair. One dressed nicely, while the other was more ruffled, more... rough and tumble. Both shared some sort of common bond, though Brandir knew not what it was, minus the resemblance, and so simply took his seventh shot without a care. What business was it of his, if these two couldn't get their act together? No skin off his back. Down went the eighth shot.

Amaie turned, sweetly inquiring upon him. Brand didn't know quite... how to react to that. Her intent stare, her innocent gaze, it entranced him, broiled his blood. Chapa had always had a similar look... the bastard. If only this girl knew the power such a glance could hold over him, surely, she would have him in the palm of her hand.

"I'm... fine," he muttered, grasping and sipping -- not gulping -- his ninth shot. Words, usually so simple to concoct, seemed distant to him now. "And as to your second question... I can't quite say how most of Adela is; I'm but a peasant farmer, after all. 'Tis'nt my place to poke into the business of others... eh? What little I see of it day-to-day, is pleasant. It has all the comforts of home, and it's certainly not wanting for any pleasure seeking... The town has an excellent library and, as you can see, tavern... I don't really know what else to say."

Indeed, he spoke honestly. Around this girl, he couldn't just outright lie -- she was far too adorable to lie to; it'd be like kicking a little puppy in the streets just when it came and cocked its head at you all cute-like. Indescribable stuff like that... Brandir didn't have the faintest clue how to explain it, fathom it, or even express it in his own head. Hand gripping the tenth -- and final -- shotglass, the magician-farmer lifted his tool of the trade to the young girl, saluting her.

"May this final glass give us all luck, Miss Amaie. God rest all our souls, otherwise." And with that, after staring upon the rippling liquid in his hand, Brandir swallowed the entire serving, gulping it down in one fell swoop. This was getting unpleasant, however. This girl... Her every feature screamed of Chapa's, and it became almost painful for him to even look at her earnest face without hearing that ripping of flesh that had so defined his life. "Thank you, bartender," he murmured to the head man, slapping down a few bits of currency to cover his tab.

Brandir rose, and turned to face Amaie and Kieli, his face upbeat and seemingly free of any sort of pain. "I'd best return home, 'ere the darkness envelops us all. I'm not much of a night person, you see. Good tidings... and, it was a pleasure to meet you both. Fare thee well." At those words, he then stepped just past the young girl, turned, and responded before words could be spoken, "I live on the far edge of town. Look for the wooden house with the garden of grains and corn if you'd like to visit." He then made his move towards the exit of the pub.

(( OOC: Carefully worded because I get the feeling Amaie won't let it rest at that. ^_^ Cheers. ))

[Anonymous]

Kieli had been counting the man's shots of the liquid. During the time they had sat talking to him he had downed 4. And he had possibly had more than that before they entered, so was it safe for this man to walk home alone? This was really all he noticed, the earlier things, about Adela, he left up to his sister to comprehend. Personally, he just wasn't one for talking to strangers in an unknown town. He was more concerned with getting out of this room, out of this smell that he swore to the highest of heavens was going to permeat his flesh in the stench. And by god, he'd die before he allowed himself to willing carry it around.

Amaie had nodded and smiled, her mind drifting farther and farther away from her brother and soon the connection between them was cold. Amaie's attention was on Brandir, and he troubled her. She didn't know why, it was a feeling she got around people. And the answering feeling, the answering crave was to help. But it wasn't her business - he didn't need or want some help from her. Her brother didn't even want help from her. So she was stuck in an unsatisified state of worry for him.

"Thank you," she responded after he told her about Adela.

It did seem like quite a nice place. He was a farmer? How interesting, she thought. He seemed young and was already in that. Wasn't it usually older people? Then again, he'd need to build up, as she knew farming mustn't be the most profitable job in the world. But it was something she'd remember, if she could. It was nice to pay attention to detail when concering another person, wasn't it?

She couldn't help but to stare at him for a brief second before she nodded. People said such things over a glass of liquor? She wondered what his state of mind then, and curiously lifted an eyebrow. Interesting, these little customs! Her nose twitched and as he stood up, tilting her head to look up at his face. He talked, saying goodbye and she felt a soft pang, registering the farewell before all else. But before she could actually register it all fully more words followed what he said about where he lived.

"O-oh.. Mr. Brandir, are you okay to go home alone?" She asked cautiously, adding a smile that slowly tilted downwards in a soft frown.

Kieli stood up slowly, nearly lifting Amaie off her seat by her shoulder. He placed her hat, which had set on the counter, on her head in a firm manner. It was then that he gave a gruff nod to Brandir, finding himself so compelled to rejoice in the night. And he did, he left and slid outside, a cool night breeze twisted his hair slightly and he felt at home, the tickling sensation, something so sensually addicting twisted up his spine, a gentle release crackling along his body. But he inhaled deeply and restrained himself. Brandir had yet to come out.

Amaie stared after her brother, a vague smile that returned to it's former frowning condition as she glanced with concern to Brandir. She wanted, nay, needed to know that he'd be okay to walk home alone. If not, she'd certainly coax her brother and they could walk the gentlemen home. He had been so kind and thus she felt as if she must repay him. But she just hoped she wasn't being a bother to him - since they were just acquaintances afterall.

[Anonymous]

(( OOC: Quick newly-created I-make-shit-up-on-the-fly fact -- Brandir waters down all his non-watered ale drinks slightly using his powers, to prevent from becoming TOO inebriated. That way, he can still keep up his joyful act, without showing too much of his hand. And, the fact that when he gets REALLY drunk, he shows off his power is also a factor in that choice. ))

... He hadn't taken two more steps away, before that sickeningly-cute girl had butted in. What an annoyance. Against his better instincts, Brandir shifted his head, and saw his acquaintance's smile change a hundred-eighty to a frown. Quite literally, he felt a chill run down his spine, as this sort of cuteness was unnatural -- nay, unGODLY! How could one human being be so... so... ADORABLE!?! It boggled the mind.

Any surprise he showed, however, in contrast to the norm, showed clearly on his face for a precious few moments, followed by a rarely-seen scowl, and then back to a soft smile. "Hm. Well," Brandir commented, thinking out loud; "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to have a pair of escorts. You needn't bother yourselves with my own troubles, but... Well...!! It would be my honor to travel" -- at this point he put on his best, warmest fake smile, the most effective he could muster without cracking up into laughter at the ridiculous sweetness of Amaie -- "... with such a charming lady as yourself."

Brand turned to Kieli, and muttered, hands cupped towards Amaie's ear, "And a cutie like him, too. Wowza." It was said quite clearly in jest, but with this girl, anything was possible. The ten shots, potent as they were, had taken their toll; this was evidenced by Brand's sluggish responses to Amaie's words, as normally, he would scarcely hesitate for a moment to switch from brooding mode to 'Oh-em-gee double-you-tee-eff!!!!' mode. He'd gotten it down to a science, but it went to hell with those ten drinks. Moreover, he would never chance to say what he'd just said under normal circumstances...

... whatever. It didn't really matter. Again Brandir set off for the door, walking in a slow, swinging, creeping motion, like a swaying shadow in the flickering light. Okay, he looked like a half-dead drunk; but hey, at least it sounded cooler.

(( Quickie post. ))

[Anonymous]

('Tis okay! Smart man he is.)

Brandir wasn't the only one who thought Amaie's sweetness and general personality with ridiculous. But Kieli was sickened by it - what he missed was his sibling from long ago. An Amaie who could have him pinned to the ground in 10 seconds flat, who would defend herself and him ferociously without ever being physically threatening. It all changed three years ago.. And it sickened him. Where was the wolf? He couldn't help but wonder where all the wolf instincts had gone from her half of the soul. Was he the only one who retained the instincts? God, now he had to look out for her ass and his own.... By now, he was already wishing he was asleep somewhere in the damn woods. Damn his sister for dragging him to the village.

Amaie was quick to note the facial changes, being not one to over look them. She was a person who's world revolved around emotion, thus she tried to understand everyone elses. When he answered her, saying he didn't mind she wondered if he was lying, vaguely so. But she quickly adjusted her thoughts to, "why would he be lying?" and to not doubt him so. She just tried to make herself realize that perhaps she was becoming a bother and she hoped not. But when he called her charming she burst into laughter, her hands clapsing over her mouth as a rosey shade displaced the snowy color on her cheeks. She found that funny. But she quickly composed herself.

It didn't last for long. With his comment on her brother she laughed at that too - whether he was joking or not, she found it funny. She could only imagine Kieli's twitchy answer if he wanted to reply. He might have heard... she wasn't sure. But it amused her if he did, and he wouldn't take kindly to that, compliment or joke or just the alcohal talking. He didn't care.

But Amaie followed him quietly, watching him manuever. Was that what happened to you when you were drunk? She watched in amazement and as they got outside she felt like dancing. The night put both her and her brother in good spirits - whatever it was ran through their veins, enlightened them, and even Kieli seemed happier then he had been inside.

"It's lovely out," she commented, clapsing her hands in front of her as she glanced back at Brandir, Kieli resting his arm over his sister's shoulder, using her as an armrest.

"Yeah. It is," he added.

".....I never understood alcohal," he mentioned as he watched Brandir, to no one in particular. This wasn't news to Amaie.

(ah, i may not be able to post until Saturday, just a warnin' ^^)

[Anonymous]

(( OOC: No problem! I can wait. Just take your time, 'ya? ))

It would seem that his 'watering-down' of the ale hadn't had much of an effect. As he walked, Brandir staggered, stumbled, and otherwise made an idiot of himself. To the townspeople, it was an unusual sight -- Brand usually made it through only half of the ten shot challenge, but all ten shots? Whoo~ -- but for the actual drunk-ee, it was even worse. He hated showing his vulnerability. Every step he took inebriated was a step backwards in time, to the days when he couldn't care less about anything. What had made him so desire those ten shots? Memory, I guess, would be the simplest answer...

Brand took note of Amaie and Kieli following him; one could say that they were... persistent. To follow a drunkard with no idea of what he was capable of... It took guts. Of course, those sorts of thoughts were lost to Brand, as he was too busy tumbling in his every step to notice any idle thoughts his mind might have. Maybe he had had too much to drink; ten shots of pure ale and a bottle of the watered-down stuff, I guess, isn't the best thing to do when you want to remain un-drunked ((is that even a word? o.o)). He never could stay sober when Chapa was around him. They'd always head into a pub somewhere nondescript, order the hard stuff, and cut out before paying their (ridiculous) tab. Better times, better lives, you could say.

Now approaching his home, distanced from the rest of the farmers' houses. It wasn't fancy, and it wasn't particularly lush, but it was cozy, and it was 'home.' That's what mattered most. It was here that Brand's guard, let down to the critical point, got the better of him. As he stepped into the gated commune, he outstretched his hand, and jolted his power through it to drag open the door. His reasoning at the time was, 'I don't want to be bothered with motor skills, so, ehh.' That about sums it up. Of course Kieli and Amaie would see it; how could they not? At once, the drunken mage cursed himself under his breath, damned his stupidity and drunken stupor to hell. Not that it mattered; the damage, whatever it was, had been done.

The farmer returned, shifting his head over his shoulder. "S'rry 'bout tha'... *hic*... Dun' usu'lly do tha' 'fer mos'... *hic*... Never min'. Ish time 'fer som'm're o' th' spirishts an' s'm restin'... *hic-hoi*" Brand started towards the now-opened door, each movement he made compounding his stupor. Damn Chapa... He did this, thought Brand absently, as he just passed the third row of crops.

[Anonymous]

(i'm baaaaaaaaaack :D)

Amaie had noticed the magic, as any studious person would, and was almost envious, but within reason of course. She smiled thoughtfully, drawing Kieli's attention from the bordering words, his eyes grazing over Brand and his cozy little home and swept back to Amaie. He locked eyes with her for a second before understanding what had gone on, that the man had used magic. He smiled, a smug one at that, as he glanced back to Amaie pushed her shoulder lightly, knowing she was incapable of using magic. She just didn't have a knack for it.

Kieli's attention diverted back to the darkened exspanse of woods, how they loomed, and while so brooding, so inviting. It lured him a step towards it, but an interesting smell caught his attention. A buck was wandering not far, and his stomach panged him sharply, reminding him of it's emptiness. He glanced back at Amaie, to see his excitement reflected in her eyes.

"Ah, yes, Mr. Brandir. It was nice meeting you. Perhaps we'll see you again," she called in her sweet voice that was already bubbling with rich laughter as she glanced at her brother.

Kieli was growing frantic, his body throbbed, adrenaline coursing through his veins, blood pounding in his ears. His heartbeat fluttered wildly to the point he'd thought it'd burst from his chest, and he ripped off his shirt and slacks, throwing them down with a crazed vengence, pulling off his underwear as well. He stood naked for the barest of seconds, wanting for the release. The binds slowly pulled off his hybrid form and the change came, bearing upon him full force, making him vibrate. His back arched and his muscles throbbed and buldged, pleasure and pain dancing across his features.

A rash of course, thick black fur spread along his body, thickening around his groin area as his spine elongated painfully, a sharp breath inhaled. His bones began to crunch and shudder, muscles and bones contorting as they changed their shape beneath his flesh. His face changed it's shape, jaws lengthening and fangs protruding from his broad muzzle with his bright blue eyes glowering from the midnight furred face.

His body convulsed and he was thrown forward, and the span his changes had taken were mere seconds. He caught his breath, a deep inhale as he hunched forward and then shot forward, disappearing into the woods in a form caught between human and wolf. He was going to take the buck - he and his sister were hungry. The buck was their's.

Amaie felt his same excitement and she trembled with what little restraint she could muster. Her face looked slightly more feral, looked slightly more wolf like in an indescribable manner. She wanted to change, too follow her brother into the woods would be glorious but.. She just remembered about Brandir? Did he see? Although it would be hard not to notice.. Then again, he was drunk. He touched her fingers to her lips and slowly glanced at Brandir.

Had he seen Kieli change?

It seemed both their secrets had been revealed. His own power and their own.

[Anonymous]

At Amaie's words, Brand waved a hand in recognition, faintly acknowledging that something was wrong but, ehh; screw that. His head friggin' ached, and every movement he made seemed to deepen his lack of sobriety. There, Chapa himself could have stood screaming at him, and Brandir would've replied with a plump, "F*** you" as he'd done so many times in his dreams, drunken and otherwise. The hand that waved back now flipped to a thumbs-up -- but it was nary a simple thumbs-up. It was...

A DRUNKEN THUMB.[/u] Sure, some people claimed to have a green thumb -- Brand did, as well -- but you could scarcely beat a thumb so littered with alcoholic bliss that it could barely make a crescent. It didn't even resemble a thumbs-up. But, at least it LOOKED COOL (in between spasms).

"Fare th' *hic-hic-hoi* ... wel', Mish Amaie...! 'Ll be sheein' 'ya... Nkakakaka!!"(( [/Cocoro] )) Brandir passed the entrance to his home as he burst into inebriated laughter, creaking it shut with a second wave of his shivering hand. He remained oblivious as to the fate of Kieli and Amaie; all he could feel, hear, or see was the blackness created by his own drunken stupor. Faintly, the farmer staggered past the table in the center of the house, amazingly stumbling over only one chair on the way, and with a great sigh, collapsed on his bed.

It sucked being poor. It sucked being drunk. When you combine the two, you get a "really-f***ing-sucks," which no one wants. There he lay, panting, exhausted at just the minute effort he'd expended in reaching the bed. Dammit. Dammit. What'd happened? After five shots, he wasn't nearly as disturbed as he was now; why would double the amount make any difference? Hadn't he watered down the...?

Yeah, yeah. I can't risk it. Yeah... yeah! If any of 'em finds out I'm a magic-user, that'll be the end of it... I'd best just keep to a few shots of the strong stuff, before I get into trouble.

. . . . . . . F***.

Well, that explains things, he snapped to himself, mentally insulting his poor memory (or poor drinking memory, at least). Back when he'd first entered Adela, actually, Brandir had almost been caught using his water particle power to ease down the effects of his drink, and since he hadn't been wanting to be seen as a freak (he was already an outcast, and an exile from his tribe), he restricted himself to five shots after a few weeks of drinking. That went out the window as soon as he saw Amaie's sweet, sweet face, filled with innocence, and with luster, all the hopes and dreams that he had abandoned at Chapa's death.

"Y'know, you can't let life get to you, Arrow. If you do, you let it win against you. Defy life if you wanna, but hey, all I can do is what I want in this 'sistence. Nothin' more I can do."

That's right, he'd said that. He'd said that, and then he'd left.

"Life's just waitin' for the livin' you do to it...!! Don't give up 'less you've got a great reason to... 'kay?"

The bastard had said that, too. Brand twitched, the memories sweeping through him like a rush of water.

"Make your life worth living."

Shut up.

"I, Chapa Baba, wish to become the greatest of all the Bao Tribe! MA-HA-HA! AND I'LL DO IT!!"

Go to hell.

"The end'll come, and the likes o' us ain't gonna be able to stop it. Mark my words: we're all gonna turn to dust one day. But we have to live for the day! That's the only way we can make it through...!!"

. . . . . Dammit.

Brandir tossed, turned, and hassled, every remembered word biting at him. When had he started drinking? Answer: When Chapa killed himself. When he found himself abandoned and alone. When he could feel nothing but the hurt that bastard had heaped upon him. A wrenching sob, quickly muffled, escaped him, and the covers of his bed found themselves caught up in a vicious grip that throttled them almost as acutely as if they were to be torn asunder on the spot.

"... what..." Another sob came, and a third; at last, Brandir gasped, taking in enough air to facilitate a true cry. How long he had spent remembering was anyone's guess -- an hour, a few seconds; what did it matter? -- though Brand remembered quite clearly the last words spoken to him before Chapa had robbed himself of his future, and of Brandir's.

"Remember this, Arrow. Remember this, look back on it, and laugh with tears in your eyes. Remember that what happens today is never to be spoken of. And, remember that I love you."

"... am I doing...? Uh-hyoo...!!!"

For how long he would cry off his pain, and for how long he would suffer his brand of anguish, he couldn't tell. He didn't know whether he'd ever stop being weak, or if he'd ever get out from under the puddle of his own blood, sweat, and tears. It had been roughly four or five months after what had happened on the plains, and he -- Brandir de Arrosez, of the Hiyo Tribe -- had found his breaking point.

"... I want... What... do I want...?" Each word was enunciated, pronounced, with the suffering of the speaker. Even moreso in the mind of said speaker, a tempest raged. Storms gathered, lightning struck, a blizzard of misery hit upon his every mental nerve. He'd never properly cried for Chapa before. In his mind, he became 'that bastard,' the one who had enticed him with an offer of understanding, and left in his wake only more suffering than was there before. Brand curled into a fetal position, wrapping his arms across his knees, and merely rocking as he cried.

O, how he cried. Fifteen months of a disturbing peace rocked him, taunted him -- 'You didn't care; you never cared. All you wanted was to be with someone, even if it was a bastard like...'

-- Shut up. The acts he'd played out, the recitals he'd performed -- none of it mattered in those moments. All he was, was a lovestruck fool, deprived his heart's strivings, left to rot in this pitiful, miserable existence. His love was naught; his purpose was naught. All that he had done, wanted to do, and would do, naught.

"... But we have to live for the day! That's the only way we can make it through...!!"

. . .

Enough. Brandir had taken enough. Now, rather than crying, he laid in solace, peaceful, as if he were experiencing the eye of a storm. What if Chapa had been right? If he was, then wouldn't he, Brand, be the perfect fool? Bah. Though he remained drunk in body, in mind, he had turned a new page forward. At least, it was thought to be forward, and not backward.

Silence. That was the best he could muster now...

Utter, total, silence.

[Anonymous]

With Kieli's departure, a quest for some dinner, something that made the annoyance of hunger pangs revive. They started slow and slight, and then sharp and needle like, pleading for food. Was it not reasonable? After a full week without food, and where they had been so used to food regularly, their tolerance without it had drained them, although you'd never notice. They kept up their strength as best as they good on a plant-based diet, and tried to mask their exhaustion and weakness. Even that change into Kieli's hybrid form had worn him down, eroding a non-existant edge. Thus, it'd be harder for him to get the buck, but if he stuck with it, perhaps sheer determination would be enough. At least this once.

Amaie, left behind trying to fend off both hunger pangs and the agitation of her wolf side at being left behind, and the struggle to change into a different form tussled inside her, all vying for for a position of higher importance. This was one of the few nights she was in her human form - although it was favored - it was harder to travel in. Most of the months they'd been travelling as a pair of ivory and ebony wolves. Thus, the wolf was more vibrant, already more adjusted to being exsposed, released and unbridled by all these trivial matters. Amaie was just happy that Brandir had not seen. But.. as she began to regain her composure, standing she stared at his home.

She took every notice of the rows, the door, the coziness. How it was quaint and alone and felt a slight and simple pang. But she listened, intent, and with her unusual extra sensories stretched and reached outwards. They traced and combed for feelings, emotions, and she felt Brandir's. She winced and her fingertips were placed to her lips, feeling every emotion that coursed through him. What was wrong? Why was he like that? Her pastel eyes lingered on the dark figure of his home, and she stood there, motionless..... until it stopped. He seemed... peaceful now? And it was quiet. She hoped he would be fine - she hoped with everything she had.

Turning on her heels to the sound of a triumphant howl, splitting and chilling her blood, curdling it as it rose it loudness, rolling from it's deep thunderous tones to a hollowed windy notes. And then it faded in the wind and she shivered and smiled, the hair on the back of her neck standing on end and the wolf inside her writhing and fighting for release, to break the binds of humanity that held her. She licked her lips and started to the edge of the forest, her brother's voice still haunting her mind. It was clear, his howl, and he beckoned her to feast, and he howled for triumph. Such pride in such a small thing... Or was he celebrating the fact they still lived?

(i was unsure where to go with this, if ya wanted to somehow continue it or end it or what ^^')

[Anonymous]

(( OOC: Sorry, I just sort of cooked that up on the fly. I'll see where I'm going with this and, hopefully, Brand'll be up for discussion more thoroughly if you like... ))

"CHAPA!!!"

The once-virile body of Chapa Baba, of the Bao Tribe, now fell to the ground, thudding against the billowing plains as if there were no soul to it. There wasn't; and that was what got to Brandir. The two tribes, Hiyo and Bao, stood mute, and then, in the blood and dust, their battle cries again roared to full strength.

"Y... You have to be f***in' kidding...!!! What the hell are you doing...?! STOP!!!"

Brandir's cries never did reach their ears, and as they approached, swords raised, he did all he could think to do: run.

Chapa. Why had he done that, Brandir wondered, still curled into a ball. Why had he sacrificed himself, an exercise in futility, just to avert a war? It wouldn't be that bad, and they would still be together...

"You know, Arrow, I love my family. I can't stand to see them in pain, or yelling at one another. I don't like when people fight..."

"But," Brandir had retorted, "you're the best fighter I know! You can't be beat!" Chapa let loose a hearty laugh, and said, "No, no. In terms of skill I'm strong, but in capacity as a warrior, I'm weak. I... could never kill anything... Except..."

"Except?"

"... Never mind. That's for another day."

He never did speak of it again. Not one more time. Brandir turned over in his beddings, contemplating his words that day. Capacity as a warrior... Capacity. What sort of capacity was he showing now, so long after the fact? ... Love, it had to be. The farmer couldn't help but crack a smile. He loved him; he did. More than as a friend, too... In those short months he'd known him, he had fallen for the man they called Chapa. Now he was gone, and only he, Brandir, remained. What was he going to do about it -- sulk here, and let his weakness overwhelm him?

Brandir threw off his sorrow, literally uncurling and springing from the bed, loosing a great roar of triumph. That triumphant feeling faded, but he could sense something different about himself. He wasn't who he used to be. Not anymore. Choking back a groan, Brand crawled from his rest, standing upright at last. He wiped his eyes of tears, sniffled, and that would be the end of that, for now.

Walking to the door, the mage shoved it open as he stepped forward, seeing Amaie standing, staring into the woods. Kieli was nowhere to be found, but as he was still drunk as a skunk, not being able to see very far would seem to be an aftereffect. Brand's left foot dug into the ground 'neath him, as he raised his hand in a (half-drunken) salute: "Miss Amaie~!!" he called, liquor coating the air that felt his breath, "Quite sorry for my behavior earlier... I wasn' feelin' up to the task of acceptin' an' guests...!! I'm better now, tho', so if 'ya wanna, 'ya can come in for a nice drink! ... I have milk, too."

[Anonymous]

(It's okay ^__^)

She had stayed there, watching the woods carefully. That was odd, her brother usually never called out like that. Perhaps he was just more overjoyed then usual, and before she had the chance to check such a trivial matter a sudden voice caused her to jump, shaking her from her thoughts as her teeth had suddenly sharpened, taking on a more wolf shape before she called back the quivering energy that desired it's freedom. She willed it away and it stayed at bay, ebbing along her like an ocean's cool touch across it shore. It stayed away and the changes dissipated, falling to it's human appearance, allowing her to turn with her usual smile.

"It's quite alright! Milk sounds nice. Thank you, Mr. Brandir," she said, realizing her brother's clothes still discarded on the ground.

As she made her back towards the house she bent to pick up her brother's clothing, folding them neatly and tucking them beneath her arm. She wondered how she'd explain them if he asked. She was hoping his state he wouldn't even notice, but she wasn't quite sure. Her mind called out weakly to her brother's - the distance was wearing her in her lacking state. To him, he'd receive a broken message. But she knew he'd bring as much meat to her as he could, if not the rest of the carcass and then she'd eat.

After this visit with Brandir. She thought about it again, and dropped his clothes, folded, beside her. He could come, take the clothing when he returned and wouldn't be running around naked. It'd embarrass him and he'd be more then disgruntled that his sister didn't leave his clothing. So, she decided to be a nice sister and leave them instead.

"I like your home," she commented sincerely - she wasn't one to lie nor be sarcastic.

From her distance, which was diminishing as she walked towards him, she could smell the liqour. It was repulsive, and yet not. Was it curiousity or did it actually hold something to it? She didn't really know, and so she ignored the smell. Good thing Kieli wasn't here - he might've commented on it and held his nose.

She brushed her hair from her face and her blue eyes flickered up to Brandir's, reflecting the smile on her face and the deep hidden urge to shift. She was standing before him, turning slightly to look back at the woods for a moment then back to Brandir. She was uncertain - if only for a moment. She didn't feel right entering on her own, only because she felt she needed permission before hand other than what he had already offered. And, because, her brother was out there.

[Anonymous]

(( You have my apologies for the wait... I just haven't been able to muster the will to write for a few days. Sorry. ))

Even inebriated, Brand could detect unease, and it seemed to be pouring from Amaie just as cleanly as his liquor-stained breath was. He didn't notice the clothes left on the ground, however, till Amaie made him take notice, though she seemed careful to keep an eye on his own stare. Not that she needed much help: Brandir was drunk as a skunk, and even crying his guts out didn't drain all of the stuff from his system. As he stood awaiting his guest, Brand staggered, clutching his aching head as the pulsing blood in his brain rushed to and fro, hoping to stabilize the body it guided.

Once the young girl had properly decided upon her course of action, Brandir stepped back, fading into the one-room home with all the grace and lacquer of a dying walrus. On the way to his table, the mage snapped his wrist forward, throwing open his cupboard with a creak. Another twist drew up the jar of milk he kept there in the cold-storage (water control was a boon for early refrigeration), and a third summoned a glass from inside its counterplace. He would make no effort even to try and control the glass and milk with his own trembling hands; it'd be pointless. So, in his stead, the powers he was blessed with guided the streaming liquid to its place of residence.

"I trust cow's milk is acceptable?" Brandir said absently, noting the distortions he saw around his field of vision. "If you prefer goat, I'm afraid I can't indulge..." That was actually an interesting thought. For some time now, Brand had been considering opening up a pasture, where he could graze livestock, milk them, and even preserve the results in his iced magic. He certainly had enough time on his hands, if he could go drinking every day. Clearing his throat, Brandir guided his glass down to the table, and drew up his hand, calling his flask of self-made water to his hand.

"... Don't worry," he assured Amaie, unsure of his own willpower, but still... ehh. Who the hell cared? "This's just some water... No spirits 'ere." Again Brandir refused to content his hands with work, and again he twisted off the cap of the flask with just his mind, and gulping down a swift swig of the stuff. It dripped from the sides of his mouth, splitting down and dribbling to his robes. That would, of course, show the sword he kept hidden there... Which could be a problem. Again, though, who the hell cared? If she was scared of a little sword, he'd drop it to the ground and go on his merry way. It wasn't like he really needed to defend himself against a sweet girl like this, right? Right.

(( My current position is as follows: Brandir is standing behind the central table, eye craned to see Amaie as she enters. The glass of milk is laying on the table next to the seat closest the door. There are bookcases and storage areas along the right side of the house, a bed on the left side, and a washbasin/cooking area in the back. There are four seats to the table, one on each of North, West, South, and East. The home is modestly decorated, mostly just wooden planks reinforced with more wood. I hope that helps the post. ^_^ ))

[Anonymous]

(Oioi! Sorry for disappearing like that ><; Lack of muse, laziness, and a computer that was having problems does NOT mix well ^^')

Again, she wondered if he brother had recieved the message clearly. She didn't know, but she assumed he'd come calling asking her to clarify. Either way, he'd be back. Probably with a bloodied stag carcass in tow. Entering his house quietly she glanced around herself, taking note of the bookcases immediately. She gave a vague smile - her Birth Pack Village had been well-educated, sort-of. They had a single library that doubled as a foritified building. Their homes weren't too durable for the extremes of nature, thus they all piled into the building and were well protected against the harsh reality. Her home wasn't big on civilization; most were in their Wolf Flesh, and clothing was of the most simplistic styles. Of course, that didn't mean they didn't know their magic or healing. They just preferred to stay as close to an actual wolf pack as possible.

"Cow's milk is fine," she replied, a smile tracing it's way upon her lips.

She could have said wolf's milk would be much better - to her it was - but she wasn't sure if she should. While he may not really notice, or just think of it as a joke in his state of mind, the chance was too high. But in reality, wolf's milk was better. Then again, you can really only have that once in your life. Unless you really want to take that chance.

During this enire thing she was noting his skil in magic. She was almost envious of them. Magic seemed to detest her, and through all her tries she just couldn't do it. Eventually, she had given up to the most boring of days where she'd try. When she was young and it was a common knowledge to all of the pack, that's when they first began to notice she was different. Every one in the pack could do magic - except for her. That's when the ruling had begun - her differences made more prominent. And when she favored her human form and human life over a wolf's, she was excluded from much of it. But being the offspring of an alpha, she was given the leeway to stay in the pack, regardless that she was almost useless in the pack. But she had managed well under her prefrences.

"Thank you for the milk," she said, followed by a sip.

It was then he brought a flask to him, where she vaguely wondered if it had more of that stuff, but when he had said their wasn't a sniff confirmed the truth. It was simply water - good, she doubted he could withstand much more. Then again, it had taken a few doses of what he had before to make him as he was.... But that was beside the point.

Amaie's eyes strayed around, a slight smile at his sloppiness of drinking his water. It reminded her of a whelp. But she also noticed the sword, where she studied it for awhile, still smiling lightly. It wasn't her nature to fight, but she could appreciate the objects, maybe not the intentions.

"Lovely sword. Oh - I noticed you're very good at magic. Or at least better then me," she commented, laughing softly at the end, smelling the blood of the deer as her brother drew closer.

Kieli stood outside the home, his muzzle and chest matted with blood as he dropped the carcass onto the ground. How did she think this was going to work? She had to eat it now before attention was brought to it. He breathed out, and noticed his clothing. She had to fold it and put it there. Stupid, stupid sister. Then again, maybe she did it on purpose. She always loved doing those small things to annoy him. But if he changed he definitly could not defend his kill if anything did happen upon them.

Great. Maybe he should just go bury it - although it'd have to be pretty damn deep - and come back. Or he could go and wait with the carcass somewhere.

[Anonymous]

So she had noticed the sword. Hmph; a pity. Brand had hoped to keep his weapon concealed, but it wasn't to be. Now he couldn't go out until the robes had dried, or at least not with his blade. Amaie's sweetness again took over his thoughts, and so he swigged another gulp from the flask.

"This's a special s'ord, Miss," Brandir remarked as he withdrew the flask from his gullet and sat it down on the table before him. His hand brushed the grip of the weapon, feeling on down to the blade, evoking more memories than he'd intended. He gathered himself admirably for a drunken man (it took about a minute, filled with hiccuping and stumbling around like an idiot -- which he was), dropped his hand to the side, and spoke: "Kept 't wi' me all thru' m' childhood... They called it 'Gemini' when I was back 't m' ol' tribe... 'Th' bond 'tween two,' ya understand...! 'S'always been close to me..."

Brandir's eyes drifted off, snapped back to place, and blinked. "... ahh... Maybe I said too much? Sure 'ya don' wanna hear a drunk's story or anythin'... It'd just bore 'ya to death. My 'pologies. Which 'minds me..." He flicked his wrist to the side at his bookcase, drawing out a small volume from the shelf; another brought the book curved around to his hand, where he flipped it open to find his own handwriting.

As I write this, as I live and breathe, I feel nothing but anger. The fool I considered my lover has now parted this mortal coil, and now, I am left alone. If I should ever reach the ascent of Heaven or the depths of Hell, I'll have to remind myself to smack that fool one... For my own sake. Damn.

The remainder of the page was stained with tears, the result of Brandir's breakdown while writing. Clearing his throat, the farmer flipped through the book to reach the central portion, which read as follows; Brandir read it aloud for Amaie to hear (as best he could while slurring, at least):

Magic... I may have gotten rusty being a farmer for so long, but I feel more in-tuned with it now than when I actively practiced it. Could it be that magic is nothing more than a natural force, that all can tap into with mere will? My 'telekinesis' is particularly tied to my mind, so perhaps, if I focus harder...

He slammed the diary shut, and remarked to his guest, "Jus' thinkin' out loud, but... Ya may find a few books I 'ave o' use in trackin' down 'yer magic... Such as..." Two more flicks, and a second book landed in Brand's hand, entitled across the front (he showed it to Amaie so she could see): "The Use of Willpower in Spellcasting."

"I also 'ave some gen'ral books 'n the su'jec'," Explained the farmer, laying his book on the table and skidding it across. "You're free to borrow 'em if ya like, no charge, no bindin'. Call it a token o' good will... 'Specially since 'ye've seen my secrets today, not all of 'em pretty. What say 'ye? Take any 'ye like."

(( I have no idea what I'm doing. Forgive me. o.o ))

[Anonymous]

The bond between two. How familiar those words were. They rang clear inside her mind, and her lips slid into one of her smiles - but it wasn't directed to him or anyone visible. It was to her brother and it was sweet and endearing with a hint of mischief laced into it. Her brother was someone who was bonded very near. Not by choice, but by their birth. By being twin, by sharing the same soul, his was, in essence, destined to be strongly bonded to her, and she him. Though, it only made her feel the most alone.

Suddenly he was opening books and she was listening attentively, as she always was. Maybe she could do magic, maybe.... Or was she just giving herself too much hope? According to Brandir, it was possibly possible. But then again, it was possible it wasn't possible. But why should she be so pessimistic. She continued to listen and nod.

"Why thank you... But I really wouldn't be able to take them, I'm sorry," she said, but she smiled lightly, almost sadly.

"So why do you keep it a secret?" He brother's voice asked, and he stood framed in the doorway, fully clothed and in human form.

He stared at them, brows raised with his bright blue eyes steady on Brandir.

"Why are they secrets? Why must people have them? They do no good, I say. At least for me they cause such pain, such strain. I can't stand them! It's a goddamned shame that humans are so fucking ignorant, Amaie," his voice was slowly lowering into a snarl.

"Kieli, please calm yourself," she said calmly, her eyes on him.

"I wont! I want to know why WE have secrets? Why YOU have secrets?" He growled again, glancing at the farmer.

"Why do you have secrets? Why is it that we must keep quiet ourselves? What the fuck is living life if we must hold back what and who we are!" He howled to the ceiling, followed by in incredulous laugh as he felt energy flow inside him.

He was in no mood.

(oi, either do i xd join the club, dear XD)

[Anonymous]

Hm... How odd. Here was the prodigal brother, as it were, fresh from some sort of event, still riled up; you could smell the bloodlust on his breath, as hot as a thousand bonfires and as fierce as twenty swordsmen. Brandir's eyes narrowed as he approached the hut: Drunk he was, but the ability to sense abnormal auras wasn't wholly stifled... and what an air this guy had. Kieli's words stung hard, as they were, really, quite true. For one so young to understand it was a feat in itself, let alone the raw POWER this guy had on him. Not a man greater than he couldn't not be intimidated, and a man of his caliber... Well, that would be a given.

"... Ya' finished?!" Brand growled, invisibly drawing up a great gush of water to dull his drunkenness further. Time, it seemed, wouldn't be enough. These enchanted tides rushed in, and rushed out, shuddering the young farmer's body, and falling silent as quickly as they came. Gulping down the excess, he stepped forward, hand gripping Gemini and drawing it out, only to throw it to the side, a clear sign of no killing intent.

"It's about time," He snarled, still slurring slightly, "that some of us recognize what we are, who we are, and when we are. Miss Amaie... Sir Kieli... You're not normal. Neither am I. The common folk detest that which they do not understand, 'nd they very rarely accept those who are different from themselves. You have to know it; I know it... And that is the birth of secrets, doubt, and innuendo. Isn't it? Tell me I'm wrong, Sir Kieli... Miss Amaie."

Brandir drifted forward a loose palm, and from it, summoned a small sphere of water that swirled and darted around itself in coils and streams. He continued, "Is this normal? Is doing whatever the hell you did normal? Face facts, and forward. Secrets are a part of humanity... We can't help but, in our arrogance, hide what others fear... We'd just die by the hands of persecutors, otherwise. Is that absence of life what you seek? There has to be at least a few dozen people in this world who would gladly give it to you." The water receded, falling within itself, and shattering in a burst of spraying liquid. With it, Brandir's hand clenched, his consciousness returning to him in droves, though his senses were otherwise dulled by the intense pressure he created in himself to destroy the liquor.

"Live as you like, but don't take that tone of voice with me in my own house; it's rude. Please, sit down, and have a glass of milk... It'll do you good." Readying his telekinesis, partially to summon more milk and a glass, partially to ready to defend an attack, Brandir prepared himself for whatever might come.

(( Meh, crappy post, minus the dialogue (if I'm allowed to gloat). Happy New Year, Emoosts. ^_^ ))

[Anonymous]

Kieli's body was shaking, and his jaws were clenched together. Just as his sister said. While they could go around, hiding who they were, he couldn't. It pained him to the point where the most evil intentions rose - the darkness of his soul half was burdened so evilly with the minus of release. He needed it, he wanted it, but he was denied it, and what his former packmembers had said, that he was what was evil, it'd break free of what little binds he had formed. The bloodlust, the murderous intentions were hardly restrained. Because of who he was, and because of what he was, he found no need to hide what he was. And he longed for the pack that had secretly rejected them - he longed for the only life he knew, the only life that would not make him hide.

"To me, it's normal. To them, it's not! I can't do anything in front of them," he snarled, fangs poking over his lip, his nails elongating into sharp, vicious points.

He bristled and his eyes sweltered the brightest blue, his hair spiking with the ferocity in which he felt. The change was begging for it's snap, and he wanted to oblige it, but he couldn't. It was too true what that man had said, and it pained him, because it was what he needed. His cure for his cruelty, his insanity, the darkness that boiled inside him. God, it was trecherous, standing in a building. He couldn't stand it's walls, it made him claustrophobic, it made him feel like a cornered animal.

"Amaie, why here? Why have you brought me to this place I cannot survive in? We could still find the trail home, you know," he growled, his eys accussingly directed at his sister.

"... I'm sorry, Kieli. But I brought you here selfishly and... I cannot go home, for another selfish reason," she said to him, head bowed as she stood.

While Brandir didn't show signs of fighting, her brother was trembling and shaking with anticipatin, with the internal struggle. He hadn't being something he wasn't, and she could see the glimmer, the barred self that was inside him. In seconds she had whisked herself in front of Brandir, and she looked at him in a soothing way.

"You know how we are. We live with secrets because we must, to survive. Our pack lives away from all places to be a secret, even if no secrets are kept within. It is the way to survive, because of hate and fear which is bred so deep. Brother, you mustn't give in. I know," she whispered.

This was how she felt at home. This was there difference. She wanted human flesh and he wanted wolf fur. And it was a curse how they tried to compromise, and how they tried to please one another and fail quite miserably. Because even though they compromised, they didn't have anyone to enjoy their adventures with. Really, it was like something inside them wouldn't let either of them be happy.

"You don't know," he growled.

Twin or not, she didn't fight the murderous force inside him. But he was calming down, slowly and slightly, Amaie gave a frown that turned into a weak smile. She turned to Brandir.

"Our secret is wolf shape shifting," she murmured, her eyes sliding back to her brother.