ecclesia

As if in direct retaliation to his fond use of a nickname, she used his full name. It was a slap in the face, but he swallowed his anger. He wouldn't let his temper get in the way of their reunion. They hadn't seen each other in nearly a year, certainly. The brute could remember vividly the last time he'd laid eyes on her. She'd been balding and ragged with starvation, every vertebrae in her spine standing in stark relief against her dark pelt. They'd swept the last of the soil over their parents' corpses, and their bodies were swathed in dirt. She hadn't shed a tear. Stoic and proud, even in their darkest hour.

”Your appearance is pleasing, as well.”

Features twisted into a scowl, one lip curling to flash an ivory fang. It faded when he noted the glassiness of her eyes, quickly blinked away. The soft fall of her dark auds against her delicate skull. Something was wrong. Dare he ask? They'd parted on dire terms, all but cutting ties entirely. He hesitated, a nearly fatal mistake under any circumstances. "I'm glad you're not dead," he finally grunted, gaze flicking to the horizon to avoid meeting hers. He dared not reveal the softness that lay there, the painful desire to hug her to his chest and cry into her dark fur.

Seeing her again brought it all rushing back. Weeks of cruel, gnawing hunger. Hamiclar, desperate to retain order in the kingdom as his people dropped like flies. Sweet Ana, his beloved orchid. Throughout their youth she'd always been so effortlessly regal, retaining her composure no matter the situation. She'd stayed strong to see Jax buried, despite the emptiness in her gaze from the famine that had felled her well before the younger Klein. She'd stood strong at his grave. There had been no one to comfort Roman when it had been her in the ground, barely a week later.

"I'd hate to bury another sister." he said softly, maintaining his attention on the strange spire of rock in the distance. It jutted from the landscape, out of place against the distant rolling hills. Did Deathbelle still grieve their losses? Or had she cast it away, as no doubt her beloved Hannibal had.