Walk | Talk | Think
Dutiron came and sat beside him, and Requiem cast his brother an assessing, sidelong glance. His poor brother. He still looked a little out of it, as if he was not quite back up to par yet, but the fact he had found it in him to make it to the meeting was testament enough to his improvement. Teal and green eyes full of encouragement, Requiem smiled Dutiron's way, hoping the whole meeting thing would not give him any set backs. At his other side Saga appeared, seating herself next to him and offering a polite little nod of her head in a manner of greeting. His warm smile grew a fraction brighter, his tail giving a few soft beats against the ground behind him. It had been much too long since he had had his family around him like this, since it had been safe to gather and interact. Maybe this was another prayer - one he had not even thought to ask yet - being answered.
Spirits high, he sat between his siblings and waited patiently, watching the faces of family and his family's friends alike enter and take their places to hear what needed to be said. Each pale pelt made him think it was his mother arriving at last - she always seemed so reluctant to leave Descant alone for very long - but after a few false alarms he finally saw her. No sooner than he did, however, his smile quickly faded. Song did not carry herself with the authority of a once-Oracle, nor did she even look happy. Brows furrowing, the arrowed markings upon his brow deepening the look of his expression, Requiem craned his neck to watch her wade through the gathering, making for his grandparents, and noticed the swinging bundle hanging from her jaws. It was limp, like a rabbit, but he knew that coat, those spindly, weak legs. The quiet, empty face.
Jaw slackening, the brown boy could not quite process what he was seeing. It was Descant, surely, he knew his brother well enough to recognize him. But this was not him. There was no life here, no glimmer in the eyes. It was like he had...died. His mother's quiet phrase let him know what had happened, and the absence of sound in her silent sobbing somehow seemed to echo the emptiness Requiem could feel settling within his chest. It was cold, numbing in a sense, as if his body had shut down while his mind raced frantically to piece it all together. Descant - his brother, his littermate - was gone. He would never get to see him waiting in the den anymore, would never listen as stories of the day were told to him, would never see the sad smile that was so full of love, so full of hope, that his mother only ever offered to her weak son.
Everything was suddenly blurry, and his bottom lip wobbled something fierce. His throat burned with a painful lump that seemed near impossible to swallow around. His ears were folded, sadness weighing them down, and through the blur he glanced left and right at his sister and brother. How much more precious they were now for still being here. He was torn, between staying here, between his siblings, to comfort them and be comforted in return, and going to see Descant. Who knew if he would ever get to see him again after this day, after whatever happened to his body now that he no longer gave it life? Afraid of losing his chance, a little desperate to be proven wrong about his brother's death, Requiem rocked forward to his feet and padded toward his mother and his brother. Elder siblings pressed beside the white woman, his grandmother holding her just as Song would them if something made them cry, but, tail tucked and ears low, he skirted around them and wheedled his way nearer his brother.
He was so still. Even sick as he was, Requiem could never remember him being so still. Nothing twitched, his sides refused to rise, and his face was empty of any of his brother's expressions. He really was gone. It was good the remainder of the meeting had nothing to do with him - he no longer paid attention anyway. His bright eyes blurred again and this time spilled when he blinked them, and feeling the lump in his throat burn hotter than before he turned his face into his dead brother's shoulder to cry, drawing in his scent, so heavily covered by his mother's too, and quietly mourned for his loss.
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