my words are unerring tools of destruction; Wolfbane

my words are unerring tools of destruction

He remembers when Bane was born – he remembers the long hours of waiting, excitement barely contained, for the promise of another brother or sister. He remembers that he had been, very briefly, incredibly jealous that his little brother looked like their parents, and if Longclaw had acted then as he has been acting recently, perhaps he would have disliked the trueborn son of his parents. But of course, then, both Femur and Longclaw had been excellent parents, Longclaw as supportive as any father Gansey could have dreamed up for himself. So the boy had considered these jealous feelings, and dismissed them, in a strangely mature way for a child, and the last few months of his childhood and the first few months of Bane’s had cemented their bond as brothers long before Longclaw’s mood swings began.

He flicks his ears to catch his little brother’s less-than-positive words and he assumes that it’s linked back to the fact that Bane doesn’t have the ability to flee the Kingdom to escape their father’s cutting words and lashing temper. He reaches out and nibbles on the other boy’s spine-long mane affectionately, but says nothing, letting the gesture and the commiseration in his green eyes do the talking for him. Still, when the gold-and-blue colt’s wings ruffle in response to Gansey folding his own in close, he has a good idea what the latest bone of contention in the family might be. And he can, truly, sympathize. Val had been a quick study, flying early, but Gansey had been remarkably late. In fact, he’d been at least Bane’s age or older when he resorting to half-falling half-leaping off the side of the volcano to escape the stage he’s guessing his little brother is still in; jumping and gliding working great, actual flying not so much.

“A lot of exploring,” he responds, “Checking out what else is on offer, outside of Tephra.” he lets his brother change the subject momentarily, taking the good-natured ribbing with a grin and a laugh, jostling his currently-smaller-and-less-impressive looking sibling with a shoulder shove carefully calculated to be only playful. “Yes, bigger than you now, and likely to stay that way,” he adds, playfully nipping at the younger man before dancing out of range, “Are you sure you’ve been eating all your greens?” He’s happy to engage in another few moments of brotherly roughhousing if Bane initiates, aware of his own advantage in age and experience as he has always been since the day the boy was born, pulling all of his attacks to a carefully calculated level. He looks forward to the day they might meet in a real mock, but suspects a part of him will always be too careful with his youngest sibling to do more than the most perfunctory of training together.

But he draws out of the play after a few minutes, and gives his brother a serious look to refocus the two of them, drops his nose to itch against one foreleg, and then says casually, “You know I didn’t fly until right before you were born, right?” He’s not going to say how he started, because if Bane hasn’t heard the story he doesn’t want to give him any ideas. “You’ve got time. It’ll come to you, too.”

gansey

and I've become unequipped with the ability to disarm them