Sibling Rivalry

[Devrah Windslasher ~]

Devrah slinked through the dark cover of the woods, her footfalls carpeted by a thick carpet of pine needles and other forest debris. Under cover of tree, and with the moon dark and new, she moved like a sleek jungle cat, nary a misplaced motion or sound to betray her presence.

As she passed the trunk of a great pine, an arm shot suddenly from its other side and gripped her wrist, twisting her arm at the same time, immobilizing her, though not painfully. A phantom hiss came form the unseen assailant, and Devrah tensed her body, waiting the blow, readying for the fight...

The assailant emerged, a tall shadow, from behind the trunk and regarded her quietly a moment. He brushed a lock of thick, dark brown hair from his forehead and stared at her with dark, brittle green eyes that matched her own. His grip tightened on her arm, slightly painful now.

"Hello, Diarmhid," Devrah said softly, in a casual voice that had only the faintest undertone of poison. Most wouldn't have picked up on it.

"Devrah!" a hoarse voice croaked from the man, "You... I do not believe in ghosts and so you must be living. I must have been told lies."

"If you were told I was dead, it was a lie," Devrah assented, her voice low, hollow.

"What happened?" His voice was sharp, knife-like, cutting through the darkness between them.

"I was attacked. I was too weak. My life was saved by an elder of the elves; I owe her much. But my son's life was not spared. He died in my belly, before he could be born." Her voice was flat, her eyes hard and emotionless, but Diarmhid knew his sister well. He could sense the grief, the guilt, the despair that filled her. The only thing reflected in his own eyes, though, was a strange look of surprise.

"I did not know you were carrying a child," he said softly, a very odd tone in his voice.

"That is because I didn't tell you," Devrah responded calmly, her eyes, her voice betraying nothing.

"I see." Diarmhid tossed his head in a seemingly casual fashion, but the way his grip tightened still on her wrist belied his efforts. "It was his, I assume? The half-breed's?"

"It was Kamik's," Devrah agreed, an icy malice beginning to edge its way into her voice.

Diarmhid nodded slowly, and then fixed his eyes on hers, his expression for once as unreadable as her own.

"Who attacked you?"

"Aokan Folkbjorn. A servant of Moshran. Kamik killed him and he returned as a demon-spirit of some sort."

"And you plan on hunting him." It was a statement, not a question.

"I have no choice," Devrah replied softly, her guard almost dropped. In an instant it was back in full force, her eyes hard, unblinking. "I don't expect you to give a damn, of course," she added swiftly, "But I had wanted to name you his godfather." Her eyes were now locked onto his, analyzing their reaction.

Diarmhid knew his sister's skill with reading expression, and he knew his ability to mask his thoughts was not as great s hers, and so he ducked his head, avoiding her gaze. His grip on her arm remained the same.

"Why?" he asked finally, his gaze still averted, his voice cold, so cold. "Why would you think I would give a shit about a part-elven little bastard of yours?"

Devrah's free hand had obtained her dagger from its sheath at her belt instantaneously, as he knew it would. She stretched across her own torso, blade extended, but Diarmhid had calculated her blow and stepped back neatly out of reach, still holding her closer arm captive. He gave another little twist on the arm, knowing it must be hurting. He had to commend his younger sister. She gave no indication at all that she had noticed the difference in pressure.

"Where was Aokan last seen?"

"What the smile do you care?" Devrah snarled, a low growl arising in her throat. Diarmhid only chuckled, shaking his head lightly. "Your temper competes only with mine, dear sister. Now, Where was he last seen?

And he increased the pressure on her arm, to within a fraction of its breaking point as he hissed the words through gritted teeth.

"Castle," Devrah muttered, her face still commendably impassive, "Varshikar."

Diarmhid released her arm, but at the same time pushed her back to the trunk of the tree, using his own weight to hold her there.

"I'm going to let you up," he said, his voice that of an indulgent older brother. He knew it would piss her off immensely. He was right. Devrah growled and spit at him, and he shook his head tauntingly, "Uh-uh-uh. You have to be nice first. If you're very nice, I might even do you a favor and take care of this Aokan for you."

Devrah had been about to bite him, he was sure, but she stopped her movements slowly.

"Why?" she asked softly, and then mocked, her voice hard and brittle, "Why the hell would you care about some part-elven son of mine?"

"Sometimes you forget, I think," he said quietly, releasing his physical hold on her, but keeping her there with his eyes, "You are still my sister."

And he was gone.

Devrah cursed and rubbed her wrist.