"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
Nayl finds him so easily. It's his scent that drives her forward; it's the smell that she drew into her lungs immediately after they were born. The twins, so precious as they lied by mother. Their innocent eyes peered up and drank in the emerald sea that surrounded them. Oh, how cute and small they were, but Nayl knew they wouldn't remain that way.
Tytos remained in the Jungle for quite some time but Rhonan, mother's reflection, was quick to leave its humid walls. She can't fault her young brother; males aren't destined to live in a matriarchal world. Not unless they wanted to amount to nothing.
And last she heard, Rhonan was certainly not a shameful asset.
Their bodies connect through a gentle nip that finds the gentle curve of his shoulder. "Rhonan," she murmurs her sibling's name with a more maternal tone than loving. It carries concern but relief to have him near again. "What are you doing these days?" She recalls him joining the conversation once before in the meadow; it was her and a couple others, but the group quickly disbanded. It was Rhonan that she cared more to speak with, not strangers. Her family is more deserving of her time and effort.
Rhonan has never been terribly good at paying attention to his family. He was quick to leave the Jungle every chance he got, and not because he had any good reason, but simply because he liked to get away. He’d love to pretend that he ran off to better himself, to make something of his life, but he’s a terrible actor and couldn’t pull off the lie. Even when he disappeared to the demon’s call, it’s not because he wanted to make himself better. He’d just been bored, and so he’d gone.
One hell of a poor choice to solve bored with. Those lives, those dreams, whatever they were, had changed him forever. Though he hadn’t yet figured out if they’d changed him for better or worse. Certainly, he was something now. Not something because he’d slaved in a kingdom and made a name for himself. Just something. He was very different than the boy who had escaped the Jungle so many times.
When Nayl finds him, he’s actually surprised to find that he’s actually glad to see her. There was some part of him that still thought she was dead. That his entire family was dead. Burned in the fire that consumed Beqanna, part of the horde that had killed Noah, that had tried to kill him. Which of course was completely stupid, because Beqanna wasn’t burned to a crisp anymore, so why would his family be?
Logic didn’t matter though. He’d never shaken the feeling they were dead. Couldn’t quite rid himself of it now, even with her light brush against his skin. It was sort of like seeing a ghost.
He was gold and white today, only because Nayl was here, though the shadows still clung at his feet. He couldn’t give them up entirely, enjoyed being wrapped in shadows far too much. It suited him. He’d never been the spotlight in his family, never would be, and never wanted to be. He’d always just gone off to be by himself, and he liked how he could dissolve into the shadows and simply disappear. A wonderful trick Rhynn had taught him.
“Nayl,” he says, as softly as he can. Which really, with Rhonan, isn’t all that soft at all. His voice is gravely, and he generally lack empathy and concern. He may feel some relief at seeing her, but he’s never quite figured out how to get those tiny little feelings into his voice. “Loitering in the Valley,” he says, to answer her question, toying at his shadow on the ground, and it grows and shrinks unnaturally. This is his unspoken answer to her question. He’s been playing with the shadows, learning, becoming stronger. It seemed like the most important thing, to learn control, before he tried to do anything else.
“How are you, and the rest of our family?” He finally adds. He hasn’t seen his twin or mother in so long, and he needs her to tell him they aren’t dead. Her presence alone isn’t enough to convince him.
A gentle brush against his shoulder is the only affection that Rhonan will ever see from his sister. They are both more aloof, neither following in their clingy mother's footsteps. Perhaps they are more like father or grandmother in that sense. They both care for their family but never enough to openly display it. The brief moment of contact is fleeting and they are soon looking directly into each others eyes. She hears her name spoken, his voice earnest and deep. "Damn, you've grown up," a grin twitches at the corner of her mouth but dies away before ever spreading. "You were cute and small. What happened?" He is growing older and she isn't, not really. Time has frozen for Nayl; her pretty face has halted at the innocence of a three year old. Despite being his senior they look the same - both so young and dumb. She already realizes how much of a curse her immortality will be; Nayl will outlive her siblings and perhaps even her children and grandchildren. One lifetime is only a blink of an eye for her.
The image of Rhonan and Tytos dead on the beach ripples into her mind but she eagerly wills it away.
"The Valley," she knows minimal of the kingdom. It's in her agenda to visit one day; father lived there as does their half-sister. With Rhonan there maybe she can motivate herself enough to see what type of kingdoms lie beyond the emerald sea. "Have you met Thorunn?" The question is breach, unwilled and without restraint. Her curiosity is burning deeply but she distracts herself by lingering on his question. The words are dancing around her ears unanswered for what seems like eternity until Nayl rolls her shoulders and escapes her gripping trance. "Tytos I haven't seen. Mother, on the other hand, is getting older." Gray hair peppers Myrina's face and body. Her back is swaying and she simply looks ragged on some days. "Who knows how long she will last," compassion is suddenly lacking in her voice as though she's undaunted by the thought of losing their mother. In reality, however, Nayl would be broken if it happened.
The solemnity of their conversation is rattled when Nayl draws in a breath. Changing seasons lay their marks but it isn't their surroundings that she hones in on. It's him, her dear little brother. A lopsided grin stretches across her lips. "Who are the girls?" She doesn't elaborate but snidely adds, "They need my approval first, you know."
In truth, he is so much older than he looks. Not really in the way he acts, but simply in the number of lives he’s lived. Four or five now, was it? Life in Beqanna as a child, his kingdom with the crow, the place in which Beqanna burned, his momentary glimpse of space, and then back again to Beqanna. He’s not entirely sure if his life in Beqanna counts as two or one. Beqanna had not changed, but he had.
She teases him, and he cracks something of a grin, though it’s fake. He’s never been much for acting. What happened? is a loaded question with him. The better question is What didn’t happen? Sunshine and rainbows. That’s what didn’t happen, will never happen. Not for him. Especially not now, a creature of shadow. He’d thought of living in other lands, but none have as many shadows as the Valley does, and he cannot live in the sun.
If he were Tytos, he’d have some witty comment about how he’d grown big and still cute. Tytos was the ladies man, the debonair type. At least that’s the picture in Rhonan’s mind, but it’s been too many lifetimes since he’s seen his brother to even know if that picture is true anymore. If it ever was true. Instead, in answer, he pulls the shadows from his feet until they cover him, solidifying into the black coat he wears more often than not. After all, he’s always hated being a pretty pretty princess.
“That,” he says, as if it explains everything. And to him, it does. He’s never been much for words. He’s more like father in this respect than he’ll ever know. He can’t really imagine actually putting into words where he’s been, what he’s seen. Can’t tell anyone that Noah still lingers in her peripheral vision, when there’s no one else around. They’d all think he’s bat shit crazy. And hell, maybe he is.
She asks of Thorunn, and Rhonan nods. He’d only figured it out later, that they were related. Why? Because he’s a dumbass. Because he’s rather slow on the uptake with this sort of stuff. And besides, he’d spent more time running away from his family than learning about them. “Briefly. She talks less than I do,” and he does manage something of an amused smile now, starting to have a brain and drawing a few conclusions.
Nayl tells him that he hasn’t seen Tytos, and Rhonan can’t help but imagine his body burned to a crisp somewhere, a remnant from his lives or dreams or whatever they were. The demon said it had all been real. Rhonan still couldn’t decide. Maybe Tytos had fallen into the world when Beqanna burned, and never escaped. Their Mother, however, was alive. For now. He is really hurt when she says that their mother is dying though. Not because he doesn’t love his mother, in his rather lackluster way. Rather, he’d already lived through Myrina dying once. It won’t be so hard the second time.
Nayl’s voice lacks compassion, and though Rhonan and Nayl have never been overly close, even he knows it’s a show. It’s just how Nayl is. She’s close to their Mother in a way he certainly isn’t, and he knows the hole in his heart that formed the first time she died, and he knows it will happen again. For both of them. Even if neither of them show it. But he can’t tell Nayl any of this, because in her life, their Mother has never died.
“I suppose I should visit. I’m a little concerned she’ll wrap vines around my legs and never let me go,” he says, attempting to make a joke. It’s not the best, but it’s the best he can manage. But thankfully, Nayl switches topics too, asking him about the girls. And now he really does laugh, an unused rasp to that laugh, because it is rare. Tytos was the ladies man, not Rhonan. Rhonan is unimpressive at best, all black now as well, with muddy brown eyes and that strange orange ring. Girls have never looked at him like they do Tytos, and he’s never really looked at them either.
But of course, she’s not entirely wrong. “Other shadows, like me.” Rhynn is very much like him. They share a similar power, though he actually thinks he might be more powerful than she is. His trait comes with an understanding that hers does not, and eventually, when that understanding breaks all the way through his thick skull, he thinks he’ll be rather limitless with his particular trait. And then there’s Ana, the girl literally made of shadows. He could use her as a puppet, not that he ever would. She was far more entertaining on her own.
But the two of them both dragged him deeper into the darkness. Each in their own ways, but they pulled him closer and closer to the shadows. Eventually, he knows there will be no coming back from them, but he doesn’t want to come back. He wants to let the shadows consume him. “Guess you’ll just have to visit then, sis.” Not that he would ever care if she approved of them or not. Doubtful anyone would approve of the company he kept. But of course, no matter how far down he goes, Nayl will always be his sister, and he will never forget that.
