i will show you fear in a handful of dust -- any

[Iset]

Sakir was beginning to make her mad, and though it didn’t make any sense, not even in her own mind, she was indescribably happy that he was here and could trigger her temper. Her twin was still rambling on, words of death and acceptance and afterlife falling over one another in their rush to leave his mouth. Her eyes wavered questioningly to the white mare, for she had forgotten her presence momentarily, wrapped tightly in the blanket of joy that touched her the moment she had laid tired eyes on her twin.  Her golden eyes narrowed on the white mare, “What did you do to him?” She questioned angrily. Though she didn’t see her as a threat, whatever this beautiful woman had said or done to Sakir made him think he was dead or dying. A wave of fierce protectiveness fell over her, and she shifted her body slightly so that she hid her tired twin from sight.  The murky shadow that clouded his eyes was beginning to clear, and Sakir softly traced the scar that would forever live on her neck; the scar that was His gift to her when Amet fled the Dunes. He pressed into her, and Iset felt a sense of relief that had not touched her since the last time she had been in her brother’s presence, like diving into cool, clear water on a scorching summer day.  He breathed her name, and something about his dreamy tone of voice alerted her to the fact that something was still wrong. His eyes closed and his head fell against her, heavy against the side of her thin neck, and the fear that she had shaken off gripped her yet again. Her breathing came quickly in her panic; what was wrong with him, she wondered.  She tugged hard on his cropped mane, paying no heed to the pain she was causing and knowing only that she had to wake him from this trance. “Sakir!” she snapped, “I’m okay. You’re okay. You have to get up! Amet is waiting for us at the Lake!” She tapped her nose against his neck, once, twice, three times, putting progressively more force behind each rap. The thin thread that held her patience and her temper were simultaneously cut by the alarm that she felt coursing through her.  Every once in a while, Iset's temper caught her off guard. It didn't happen often, but when it did it was like an explosion going off. “Goddammit Sakir!” Her young yet vehement voice echoed through the trees, and she didn't quite realize how loud her volume was until the birds that had been resting in the canopy overhead rose squawking into the air. She softened slightly, tears flooding her amber eyes, "You’re scaring me. I need you to believe me.” She rose, forcing herself away from the comfort his thin frame provided for her and stood over him, grabbing onto his tail with her teeth and pulling hard, like she did when they were younger and she wanted to play. Her thin hooves stamped into the ground, “Get up,” she whined, like a small child in the throes of a tantrum.  there's an old man sitting on the throne thats saying isetI should probably keep my pretty mouth shut

@[Sakir] @[Snowphish]