Stuff that stabs

Satira had been spending more and more time off adventuring on her own and away from the family as of late. It hadn't been born from a disdain of her family or anything, she just didn't like being cooped up in one area for very long feeling like she wasn't doing anything. Mom had reunited with Uncle Indigo, and she was also spending a lot of her time with those other two adults she'd brought along on their travels, so for the most part, she and Arcturus were left to their own devices. Part of growing up in the wild lands, she supposed. Were they still in the Armada, they would no doubt be put on a strict training regiment and workload by their grandfather. Out here, they were the masters of their own destiny. They charted and walked their own path. Life was theirs to make of it as they would. For her, that meant a lot of roaming and exploring. She'd even made a new friend—although she supposed she used that term loosely for the girl who taught her to kiss back on the mountain.

Wandering around the camp their family had set up, Satira spotted her brother stalking off to go lie beneath a tree with something. Standing on her tiptoes to peer over the lush grasses and bushes, she saw it was his bracers he was working on. But more importantly, she noticed that he was doing it all on his own. The fawn-colored girl breathed a sad sigh; her brother broke her heart. She wanted so badly to help him, to make him feel better and go back to the way things were before everything went wrong, but every time she tried to cheer him up, it didn't seem to make any difference. Arcturus would seem happy for a bit, and then fall back into his depressive state. She worried for her brother but she didn't know how else to help him. Floppy speckled ears folded back to her head—until Tira drew in a deep, determined breath and steeled her will. No, she had to try again! She couldn't just give up on her brother, not when he needed her the most.

Hurrying into their temporary den, Satira dug out her own bladed bracer she'd built with Grandpa Seer and that blacksmith guy back in the Armada and grabbed a swatch of fur. She didn't think she needed to tune up her weapon, but she could always polish it and pretend just to spend time with her big brother. Carrying her bracer out to the tree he was lying beneath, Tira approached from the front so he'd see her coming. "Mind if I join you?" she asked, moving to settle in beside him without waiting for him to agree. He didn't need to be alone as much as he was. Tira set her bracer down between her paws, turning it over to inspect the metal spring lock mechanism that controlled the hidden blade portion of her weapon. She tried hard to remember what Grandpa and the blacksmith had shown her about maintaining her weapon when they'd given it to her as a wee pup. "So whatcha been up to lately?" she asked him in idle chitchat while she manually extended the blade, using the fur to wipe down the blade and remove any grime or residue from it.

WC: 563
Total: 1016 / 1500

"Satira Star Fatalis"