Uh, is it bad to update another chapter immediately after publishing the first? Nah. It'll help the creative juices flow. :)
Responses:
LadyRaftina: Haha /plopsdown is one of my new favorite things.. Oh yeah, happy times are coming. This chapter, though, is a rollercoaster. :\
Zarabethe: Thank you so much! :D I'm relieved it passed its introduction... And don't die! *throws another chapter at you*
Kintaraheart: Haha yay! The good parts are coming soon :D
Chapter 2: Broken
Unaril was one of the first awake in the tribe. Everyone else was busy sleeping off their drink, but he'd avoided that mess almost entirely. He ate generous helpings of fruits and vegetables for breakfast, enjoying the peaceful tranquility of the wooded glen as he sat under the dense canopy. As far as he had learned the previous night, it was mid-November, which was becoming evident in the chill on the breeze.
This solitude, however, was really starting to affect him, and he needed someone's company. Anyone's, really, just someone to interact with. Unaril did not handle isolation well, especially in the vulnerable emotional state he was in.
He kept his eye on the tree, waiting, as he hydrated with a jar of fresh spring water and did his best not to let his deeper thoughts devour him.
He'd probably downed about two full quarts by the time he caught movement and perked up. The first person out the door was Norivana Sunstepper, the early riser, and Unaril smiled widely. He waved at her to catch her attention, and she went to him, sitting down in the table across from him with a smile on her face that pulled at her large, faded scar. She'd brought a hot cup of tea out with her, and the lazy vapors snaked up artfully, filling the cool air with an herbal aroma.
"Why hello there," Norivana smiled at him. He smiled back, immediately feeling better with company, especially company like that of the tribe's matriarch. He'd held a soft spot for Norivana from the moment he met her years ago.
"Hi," he twirled his now-empty jar with one finger on the table. "How are you?"
She inhaled a breath while still smiling, shrugging once. "Recovering," she laughed. "I never am prepared for those parties."
He felt the corners of his eyes crinkle when he laughed. "You can expect nothing less than a wild, legendary soiree with your Silverpaws."
Her smile remained as she watched him for a few quiet moments, reading him. "So how are you doing, you know, with everything?"
"I'm alright," he reassured, eyes flicking down to his own hands on the table as his smile slowly trickled away, but it then returned wanly. "You'd think by now I'd be used to coming back from the dead."
Sympathy played at her expression. "Your case is...very unique."
"No kidding. I suppose life decided I was boring and tried to spice me up. I wonder if this is normal for most people, this number of outlandish disasters in one lifetime. Or would this be lifetime number three?"
Norivana tilted her head, a familiar, thoughtful look resting on her face. "You're a risk-taker, Unaril. You throw yourself into big, important situations full of danger and excitement, and in response, your probability for encountering 'outlandish disasters' greatly increases. Many of us in this tribe do the same, and that's why we seem like we're practically cursed. People who don't take risks, who sit around and let life happen to them, don't have to worry about life-altering fiascoes every other month."
Unaril started to look sheepish, but Norivana shook her head quickly.
"I'm not implying that's bad; I think that the way you're living, and everything that's happened to you, is just who you are, who you've chosen to be. You took a risk to save my son thirty years ago, and it cost you your life, your marriage, and your children."
He leaned his chin in one palm, elbow resting on the table, and masked himself in humor. "Yeah, remind me not to gamble. Ever."
"Has anyone thanked you yet?" she asked him softly. "For what you gave up?"
Unaril fell into thought, forcing another smile that quickly faded once he spoke. "I don't expect them to."
Norivana reached across the table and squeezed his free hand. "Unaril, you dedicated yourself to both Nyela and Julian. You gave everything you had for them. That means so, so much more than I can ever hope to express. Thank you."
He pressed his mouth into a firm line to bite back his emotion, forced a slight smile, and nodded once slightly, eyes falling down at the table. He couldn't keep his expression under control, so he just sent her a pained look of appreciation and then leaned his mouth against his fingers, hiding everything below his nose. "Thanks," he said quietly.
She tilted her head at him. For a moment Unaril saw a flash of Nyela in her features, and he had to blink it away.
"I think you should get to know the twins," she suggested, changing the subject, which he knew was to help him get a grip. "You will love them, I know you will."
"A part of me already does," he responded after a few quiet seconds, finally leaning back in his seat.
"Well," she sighed, "I do believe they are already up. I heard them talking downstairs when I was making my tea. They're in the first room from the stairs, right side. You could bring them some fruit for a snack, or something. They like food. Can't think of who they got that from." She winked at him, and retrieved his empty glass from the table to take with her.
"Alright," he nodded as they both stood, and he followed her suggestion, first grabbing a large cluster of grapes from the overhead trellis and then entering the tree and heading down the stairs, which hadn't been there last he'd been around three decades ago. Unaril almost never felt nervous talking to people, but when it came to his own sons, the feeling surfaced in excess.
Sure enough, he did hear a pair of loud, similar voices yammering away, and he followed them and knocked on the door. Lucian Jr. opened it; Unaril could tell the two apart at this point, because Lucian had more pointed features, and he was physically smaller. Also, fewer dimples. Not to mention, Celwin apparently liked to wear dark, fitted clothing, and Lucian preferred loose, light, airy shorts and tunics.
Lucian lifted his brows high at Unaril, but then was pushed aside by his brother. Celwin leaned against the door, donning a lazy, dimpled smirk as he greeted him.
"Password?" Celwin requested in a sassy manner, hips cocked and head of white hair tilted.
Unaril let a smile fall in place, pretending to think to himself. "Password. Hmm. 'Let me in, I have food.'"
Celwin held his hands out to his sides, swinging the door open all the way with the action, "And he speaks the universal language!" He stepped backward confidently as he spoke, each step causing him to practically sway.
Lucian Jr. pushed back into view and physically grabbed Unaril by the elbow of his shirt, tugging him into the somewhat large room. The lighting down here in the basement seemed an odd mixture between magic and electricity, run through wires and connected to lanterns that held lunar energy, and so the whole room was lit well in a night-ish glow. Unaril handed the grapes off to the boys, who split them up and set them on a small table between two twin-sized beds. Lucian plopped himself down in a rickety wooden table chair, and Celwin flopped down onto his bed, staring up at the ceiling and eating his grapes one by one.
"So, what brings the legendary Unaril Dawnstar down here?" Celwin asked semi-formally, and Unaril made himself comfortable in a chair across from Lucian, who was currently tilted backward dangerously-far in his chair and dropping grape-by-grape into his mouth, evidently seeing how many he could fit at once. Both twins were entirely at ease, and it put Unaril in the same position.
Unaril smirked to himself. "Curiosity." He tossed a grape in his mouth.
"And to what might that curiosity pertain?" Celwin spoke again. Unaril had to bite back a laugh at the 'proper' tone Celwin was using. It was just on the edge of being snarky.
"You two," Unaril shrugged mildly.
"Ah!" Celwin perked, sitting up and leaning forward. "Fantastic! I love talking about myself."
Lucian, who'd remained quiet all the way up until now, finally spoke up in a conversational tone. "You ever wonder what it would be like if the world was upside-down but we weren't?" he called out, and Unaril glanced at him only to see that he still had his head leaned far back over his chair, nearly upside-down.
Before Unaril could say anything in response, the young man piped up again. "Seriously, try this. The ceiling looks like the floor, and gravity isn't working."
Celwin threw a single grape at his brother, which hit him on the chest and then rolled around on the floor. "You can get magic to do that just as easily," he retorted, then looked at Unaril. "As you were saying?"
Again, Unaril's thoughts were interrupted by Lucian Jr..
"I wonder if I could just-" the smaller twin began to raise his knees up, and his chair teetered dangerously. He panicked in response and splayed his arms and legs out all of a sudden, throwing himself into an upright position again and then recovering as if nothing had happened. He leaned one elbow on the table innocently, giving them both a frank smile. "That was exciting."
Unaril found himself grinning, and he had to let out a laugh. He opened his mouth to speak, but Lucian's words for the third time stopped him.
"How old were you when you started growing this?" Lucian practically launched forward onto the table as he gestured to Unaril's stubbly jaw, then rubbed his own smooth chin a few times. "I mean, how come you can and I can't? When I try, it's all patchy. Only works on my chin, over my mouth, and then just random spots on the sides of my cheeks." He fell back into the chair then.
"Might be your Sin'dorei side of the family," Unaril finally was allowed to speak.
"Celwin can grow one!" Lucian said argumentatively, folding his arms and leaning back in his seat. "When he's got his beard he looks twice my age."
"When I shave my beard I look like a baby," Celwin added in.
Lucian glared at him. "When you shave your beard you look like me."
The dimpled twin gave a broad grin almost arrogantly while his brother scowled. "Too bad Sarion made me shave it for the ceremony. I had a good four months' worth going."
Unaril let out a sudden burst of laughter. "Sarion made you shave your beard? Sarion? He despises beard-shaving."
"Well, he had mom behind him."
"Ah, that explains a little more," Unaril chuckled half to himself.
The conversation went on like that for minutes that stretched to an hour, which may have stretched to more. Lucian continued to be somewhat random in his comments, unable to hold a single topic in his head for more than a few minutes at a time, and Celwin complemented this by having some sort of opinion to say about everything that arose in conversation, which kept the flame kindled and gave no window for boredom. Both twins were relentless in their endless questions toward their long-lost biological father, everything from how and where he grew up to questions about Sarion and their experiences with fel energy and demons. Apparently they knew that Sarion had poor history with those, but they did not know more than bare minimum details. Unaril gave what he could, and the twins ate up every word.
Eventually their little breakfast party dispersed when the boys headed out with a harvesting crew, and Unaril spent the rest of that day - and the following five days afterward - in a combination of resting, reading, and catching up with old and distant friends.
He'd kept his distance from Nyela and Sarion. After just the first night, he had refused to sleep in their room any longer, mostly out of courtesy but also because it was their room. The two of theirs, shared, together. Everything that was Nyela's bore traces of Sarion, and vice versa. He couldn't recover if he was surrounded by them constantly.
But, after this near-week of avoidance, Unaril did believe he was managing better than he'd expected to. He'd slept like a baby once he'd moved out of their room, and his days were somewhat uneventful and peaceful, quiet and without interruption. He'd managed to catch up with Lucian and Norivana, and had acquainted himself with new members of the tribe as well as those of the newer generation, who were all around his age now. And, to top all of that off, Julian Silverpaw's eldest daughter Aquilia and her elf mate had apparently just added a daughter of her own, Naia, not four months ago, making Lucian technically a great-grandfather. If ever Unaril had wished to tease his friend regarding age, this was prime material.
Currently, Unaril relaxed beside Lucian, who had the small, sleeping child splayed out on his broad chest as he read a thick novel by peering over her. The baby's off-blue hair shimmered the same color as Lucian's own skin, like a frosty mirage, and her round cheeks held hints of pink. She was swaddled in thick blankets to counteract the cool temp, but Lucian's body temperature alone probably warmed her up more than anything else.
Unaril, though he'd intended upon reading, found himself instead sitting back in his seat with his eyes trained on the tiny, bundled elf. A swift, fleeting sense of envy ruffled his feathers; this was supposed to be his. He was supposed to have this, a family, a baby. A now-dead sociopathic Rogue had taken it all from him, and he couldn't help but let himself feel bitter for a few long beats before forcing his thoughts to move on.
He watched the baby sleep, her puckered cupid's-bow lips drooling just slightly onto Lucian's chest.
Lucian's voice startled him, despite how quiet and calmly he spoke. "That is a face of woe if I've ever seen one."
Unaril let his currently-tight brows relax, and he glanced up at his friend's eyes. Lucian's gaze was unwavering, his expression studying.
"That so?" Unaril sat up a little straighter in his seat, wondering how strongly his thoughts had played on his face. He'd been taking great care to keep them to himself.
"You were doing the whole-" Lucian pointed back and forth between his own brows and then furrowed them to make his point. The action was comical on the chieftain. "-the whole 'stare-off-into-nothing-and-frown' thing. On your brother, that's his regular face. But on you?" The man shook his head, "Unnatural." The baby on his chest did not stir at his voice.
Unaril let a smirk cover his mouth, but his eyes were tight as he glanced at the ground.
He saw Lucian's head tilt in his peripheral. "You need to stop running from this, Unaril. It's going to turn to anger and poison you, if it hasn't already."
Unaril visibly bristled his shoulders, but he looked at his friend with unchallenging, almost sad eyes. "Easy for you to say. You've never had to leave someone you were in love with."
The white-haired man frowned deeply, even his beard unable to hide that. "You know that is not true."
He peered back, unfazed by Lucian's intimidating stare, and watched the man for a few heavy moments before his face gained recognition, brows arching. "You mean Gladia? Way back in Ashenvale when we were practically just kids?"
Lucian blinked once, but said nothing. Unaril let out a defeated sigh, leaning back in his seat and resting his forehead against one hand. "And you had to see her die. I'm such an ass." It slipped his mind he was saying this in proximity of young ears, but said young ears were deafened by sleep anyways.
He heard Lucian sigh quietly. "I know it's not the same. Gladia and I were...we never labeled it. I called her a sister, and she me a brother, and we never acted on anything we felt. We still felt it, though. And you knew. Sarion knew. I knew, deep down. She and I only got a week back together before she died, and...it wasn't enough time. It was different than you and Nyela. But that doesn't mean that I don't know what it is like, or that I don't have an idea of what you might be feeling."
Unaril bit down on the inside of his lips so hard he tasted iron.
Lucian tucked Naia into the blanket more snugly. "And no, you're not an ass, Unaril. You will find something better once you can deal with it, handle it, and move on." He smiled to himself, gazing softly down at the baby. "I did."
Unaril knew his friend was right. He watched baby Naia in silence a long while, and then let a tiny smile cover his mouth. "She's so small."
"Yeah, man, that's the general idea of babies," Lucian teased. "They aren't like this forever, you know."
"Ha, ha," Unaril mocked as he stood.
Lucian sent Unaril a two-fingered wave as Unaril left the man to his book.
Eventually, he found himself following indented footsteps in the mud that led to the orchard pools. He missed the pools; he had not visited them for leisure in some time. The air was getting colder, as was the water, but that was no barrier for the elves.
He saw a crowd of his old friends socializing near the water, half of them in already and half of them in the process of getting there. One of them, a time-old friend of his called Paetra, caught sight of him and released an excited cheer, jogging over to him. She tossed her medium-length minty-green hair to the side and grinned at him, grabbing him by the arm and yanking him toward the crowd. The group were splattered in mud, with their clothing ripped and broad smiles etched into their faces. The energy brought Unaril to life, and he immediately brightened, returning friendly gestures and starting to call out teasing responses to any playful jabs directed toward him.
"Thought you were too good for us these days, Unie," one man shoved his shoulder playfully, smearing it with mud purposefully. Unaril chortled heartily and reached down, grabbing a handful of the mud for himself and splatting it on the guy's back and shoulder blade in response as he patted him.
"Nah, never, you know I can't stand 'good' for too long," he retorted with an obvious wink. Laughter trickled through the group as they continued to shout and play and filter themselves into the water.
Somehow Unaril found his own shirt shucked without his doing and found himself shoved into the pool as well, and he embraced it. The pool, although quite decently-sized, had filled with nearly two dozen people, making it feel slightly crowded. The water had stirred up the silt on the bottom and became murky, but it was refreshing and sweet even so. They swam and played until the sunlight that peered into the center of the pool had faded.
Eventually the group decided that the water was too confining, and they crawled out and ended up organizing among themselves a very sloppy game of capture-the-flag. Of course, Unaril was elected as first captain, which he honestly hated, but then he saw that Paetra was second and felt a streak of competition hit him. It'd been so long since he'd played a game with his friends, and he and Paetra had always had this rivalry going anytime they played something like this. The crowd was still pushing and shoving and talking loudly, having grown substantially in numbers by this point, but Unaril made his first pick. Then Paetra, then Unaril again, and so forth.
Halfway through choosing he heard a name from Paetra that made him falter a second.
"Nyela," the woman had called out, and Unaril glanced over to see the woman in question cheerfully join Paetra's side. Nyela too was splattered with mud, darkening her pink hair to a purply brown, which had kept him from recognizing her until now. He searched for Sarion in the group but didn't see him. He then realized they were waiting on him to make his pick, and so he did. The rest of his choices were distracted as he kept his eyes off of her.
They set out boundaries across the entire orchard, made clear what the flags looked like to each team, and then he rounded up his own team and took off to the opposite end of the forest. Along with most of his team, he'd shifted to his feline form, and he carried the flag between his teeth; both flags were simply large sticks with different people's shirts wrapped around them and tied in knots.
He hid the flag in the hollow of a tree and assigned two volunteers to guard it, and then everyone fanned out. The excitement and lighthearted fun of the game had caused him to forget the seriousness he'd been feeling earlier, and it wasn't long before he lost himself in it all. He tagged 'enemies' and defended his side, finding himself edging further and further out toward the boundary lines they'd set.
He didn't realize he'd crossed the team line until he was tackled to the ground. One second he was on walking along in dead silence, and the next he found himself flat on the forest floor.
"Ha-!" he heard a taunting, excited bark, and recognized it.
"Paetra, you nearly scared the piss out of me," he retorted as he scrambled to his feet, brushing leaves off of his sides as best he could as he turned and met the opposing team captain, who was standing a lot closer to him than he'd anticipated. He had to stumble a step backward simply to put more than five inches between them.
"You're tagged," she said smugly, holding her chin up and grinning at him. Some of her mint-colored hair had fallen over her eyes. It looked very cute, to be honest, like a puppy. A one-hundred-and-sixty-year-old puppy, that is.
"Were you waiting in a tree?" he laughed, rolling his left shoulder and kneading out what he knew would be a bruise.
"Like a silent predator," she flashed her claws, "waiting to strike helpless, pitiful, pathetic Unaril."
"Oh shut up, I'm not helpless," he reached out and shoved her shoulder, snickering.
She shoved him back even harder, knocking him against a tree, and he let out a vibrant, surprised laugh and tried to push her again. She caught his hand and shoved it back at him, that smirk in the corner of her mouth taunting him like it'd taunted him since they were teenagers.
"Paetra," he scolded, "we're grown-ups now, we have to act it. Don't want to turn this into a fistfight would we?"
"Mm, I think we would," she retorted quickly, craning her neck to the side to pop it.
"You can't drag me down to your level," he sniffed, folding his arms, looking off to the side to ignore her.
"Literally or figuratively? Because you know I could," she bit her lip in that same taunt.
He returned his stare to her, giving her a patronizing smile, and shook his tilted head.
"C'mon, Dawnstar, we're wasting time out here," she reached out to smack his arm.
He blocked her hand, knocking it aside, and her full attention suddenly latched onto him; she attacked again, and he parried. They both began to laugh, and when she went after him a third time, he dodged and then snaked his hands to her ribs, tickling her relentlessly. She erupted in a sudden shriek, curling her knees so quickly that she fell forward into him, and her weight made him fall backward against a large oak.
The elf had herself pressed against him for all of two seconds before she did something Unaril could not have prepared for. She didn't attack, didn't try to wrestle his arms into some sort of pin, didn't keep playing.
She kissed him.
On the mouth.
And she didn't stop.
Unaril was so stunned, he had no mind to react, other than going stock still, arms rigid, brows lifting so sharply they might travel into his hair. Paetra sensed this, and she pulled back, studying his face quickly.
"Kiss me," she breathed, and her lips were on his again, one of her hands cupping his cheek.
Unaril, noting that he was literally pinned right now against the tree behind him, hesitated a moment on what to do.
Shit.
Unaril hadn't even known she felt anything for him like that. He thought of her like a sister, or a cousin. Oh, how awkward was this going to be, now?
He grabbed her shoulders and gently pushed her back, freeing himself.
"Paetra," he started, and her brows tightened.
"You don't want to?" he caught vulnerability in her voice and cringed.
"I don't want to kiss anybody right now," Unaril corrected with a slight smile. "Including you. I'm sorry."
She suddenly looked more than embarrassed, and her arms hugged themselves around her torso, as she took a few awkward steps backward. "Sorry, man."
He smiled softly, sympathetic. "Just...bad timing, okay?"
"Yeah, I get it," she nodded apathetically, shrugging it off. "I saw this as my chance, since you and Nyela obviously aren't together."
"Mmhm," Unaril chewed the inside of his lip.
"Let me know when the timing is right," Paetra smirked at him. "I could always help you get over her."
"Yeah," Unaril scratched the back of his head, trying not to act as awkward as he felt. "Well, we should probably get back to the game, don't you think?" he smirked. "Pretending this never happened and all?"
"Right," she laughed, patting him on the arm. "And you're tagged, by the way."
"Not if this never happened," he smiled impishly, eyes flashing.
She glared at him a few seconds. "Fine. If I see you again, you're definitely tagged."
He sent her a double thumbs-up and jogged off toward his own territory. Rather than heading toward his team, though, he fell deep into thought and wandered off toward the edges.
His mind whirled. What the hell was that? Why would she kiss him? They'd been friends for ages. If anything, she'd been the one to turn him down all those times when they were younger, and he'd moved on by now. He felt bad for her; he'd seen her embarrassment, her apologetic blush, and he'd wanted to do anything he could to make it better.
Well, other than kiss her back.
Unaril groaned to himself dejectedly. He neared the very edge of their boundary; any further, and it was all untamed, unkempt forest, with no paths. He walked calmly, knowing that no one would venture out this far. Of course he had, but he was weird.
A quickened, crunching sound of feet against dry forest leaves stole his attention, though, and he turned around just in time to come face-to-face with the burglar of his own team's flag. She froze immediately upon seeing him as well, and he was surprised he didn't hear her make a sound of surprise, perhaps a squeak, which he knew her so well to do. She still had mud splattered along her legs, waist, and upper body, and even some on her face and darkening her hair. Her tunic was slightly torn, and her shorts' previous color was now unrecognizable due to the dirt stains. A twig stuck out from her hair hilariously, and a good helping of leaves were stuck to her sides and back of her shirt as if she'd rolled on the forest floor. Knowing her, she just might have.
Nyela had frozen in place, knees slightly bent and ready to spring, just five yards from him. Unaril's eyes first flicked to the flag in her hands, then to her face, and he let a challenging smile creep across his lips. Her expression began to mirror his own, her mouth forming a tiny smirk and her eyes flashing daringly.
Unaril let out a contained snicker and spoke without thinking. "Oh, man. You're not gonna kiss me too, are you?" he asked her.
"Huh?"
He pretended he hadn't said anything. "How'd you get this far with that?" he teased, immediately breaking a little of the tension. He hadn't talked to her in a week almost, not since that night.
She grinned at him, still coiled. "I have my tricks."
Unaril straightened up tall, squaring his shoulders, and quirked his head sideways at her playfully. "I'd put that back, if I were you. You can't outrun me." He resisted the grin he knew would come if he allowed it.
She eyed him sideways, inching once to her right, but he took a step to the left to compensate, leaving them both in the same position they were before. She squinted her eyes at him, pursing her lips. "Yeah?"
"Uh-huh," he nodded confidently. "I'm pretty fast. Additionally, you should know not to make any sudden movements in the eyes of a feline. We pounce before we think."
"Shifting is cheating; two legs only after the flag is planted," she tightened her small hands on the flag as he took a tiny step forward.
"Ma-aybe, but that does not negate anything I've said," he put his hands in his pockets for good measure.
He could see on her face that she knew she had no option here; she was trapped, and she felt it. She sniffed and lifted her chin, eyes narrow, but he saw humor through her actions. They heard loud, playful shouting far off in the trees, carried on the cool breeze that rustled leaves on the forest floor, but none came close to them.
"So," Unaril said in a deceivingly conversational manner, sniffing once as if that would dismiss the fact that he still had her trapped. "You, my enemy," he said the word with a glint of sport, "thought you could just take that precious, invaluable pennant," he motioned toward the comically-dirty, scrappy-looking 'flag' with motion of his arm, "and then skulk past us all on the very edges of the battlefield and win? Those are the actions of a dirty, rotten Rogue. Which is an insult, by the way," he added in teasingly, "though I know how you do carousal about with those scoundrels."
She visibly stifled a giggle. "Well it would've worked," she grumbled at him humorously. "No one else is here."
He hid his own smirk, then gave her a very serious stare, speaking in a dramatic tone, "Nyela Silverpaw, I hereby command you return your stolen possession to its rightful owner."
"And if I do not?"
"I will have to take it from you by force." He squared his broad shoulders, standing up to his fullest height, darkening his expression, though he couldn't for the life of him get rid of the smile that shoved its way onto his face.
She let out a mischievous giggle and stumbled backward a few steps. He shook his head at her, and without further warning launched himself forward.
Her giggle turned into a shriek and she ran full-speed away from him, far out of bounds rather than back toward her own base, her sole goal right now being that of escaping him. Unaril let out a chuckle as he sprinted after her, and after just twenty strides he caught her by the waist, and the two tumbled down. The flag flew ten paces ahead, and Nyela, still giggling, squirmed out of his arm and reached for it. Unaril grabbed her arm and pinned it down as he grabbed for the flag instead, but then his own hand was clamped to the ground by hers. Their laughter mingled together, hysterical and out-of-breath from the running. They bickered back and forth like that for a few seconds, before he finally just reached out and picked her up, then lobbed her to the side into a pile of leaves.
He reclined on his butt and scrambled backward from the woman, laughing heavily as she tumbled out of the pile, now looking like a disheveled forest nymph. She spat a twig onto the ground and had so many leaves in her hair he couldn't tell leaf from twig from muddy curls.
Unaril couldn't breathe at the ridiculous sight of her; his laughter erupted so hard he fell backward onto the ground with his arms wrapped around his stomach and his knees pulled up. He heard her laughter join in, and his stomach had cramped by the time he managed to sit upright and look at her again. He scooted forward and began to pick the leaves and twigs from her tangled curls, still chuckling to himself. After a moment he noticed she'd become quiet, and he glanced down at her face with his smile still in place to see she was watching him with an unreadable but warm smile as well, her eyes peeking from under her long brows.
"Sorry about the leaves," he put in, carefully untangling a twig that did not want to untangle. "Uh, situational hazard."
She burst into more quiet laughter, glancing off at the flag nearby on the ground. "I've made it impossible for my team to win."
He tugged another leaf from her long, wavy bangs and let it fall as his hand lingered there by her cheek. His warm golden gaze refused to leave hers as he smiled slightly. "Guess I'm even better at this game than you anticipated," he said, and then snickered when she scrunched up her nose in defiance. Her stare flicked to the side in a partial eye-roll, but he finally let three fingers brush her jaw, his thumb toying at her chin, and those eyes of hers returned to his promptly, searching.
Despite spending this entire week trying to immunize himself against her, he now found himself crumbling even faster this time around. Their smiles were faint but still present, their eyes locked together in a frozen yet daring standstill, each of them unsure of the direction this was about to go, unsure of what to do next. He let his thumb clear away some mud from the corner of her mouth, eyes flicking to her lips, which held a subtle, sweet smile.
"I'm sorry I've been so aloof," Unaril ultimately spoke up, mostly to put words in between them as a shield.
"It's okay," she murmured, "Sarion said to let you have your space. You're obviously hurting. You haven't exactly been yourself." A second passed, and she smirked, "I mean, until...now."
He allowed his own smile to surface again, speaking brightly. "All it took was some mud and a little exercise."
Her quiet chuckle was music to his ears as she spoke, "Maybe that's the fix to everything."
"I'll attest to that," he smirked. "The universal answer involves one part mud," he lifted a dirty lock of her hair, "and two parts exercise. Which, by the way, we're not done with."
She watched him for half a second, waiting to see his next move, which was answered when he tumbled to the side and grabbed the flag off the ground, leaping to his feet and sending her a cheeky grin.
He laughed aloud as she scrambled to her feet and shouted some unintelligible word at him, and he gave her a half-second head start before he turned on his heel and began to run. Not at full-speed, but fast enough that it got his heart pumping, and fast enough that he was always just out of her reach.
He didn't run the flag straight toward his base, though. He didn't want to end their fun that soon. The two sprinted through the trees until they burst into a tiny clearing, and Unaril faltered to a stop, losing his breath.
Nyela ran into him head-on, smacking against him hard enough to knock the wind out of both of them, and he stumbled forward but otherwise didn't react to the impact other than inhaling a gasping wheeze. A subconscious part of his mind spent its energy on regaining the ability to breathe, as a more surface-level part worked at processing their location.
Nyela, after having coughed violently for a few seconds, inhaled deeply once, and then it seemed she too understood the significance of this area because she froze, the only thing moving being her head as she surveyed.
A small, solitary pool hid behind an overgrowth of trees and ferns, a familiar place for both of them. Unaril barely noticed his hand releasing the flag and letting it fall to the ground, and after a few long seconds of pure silence, he finally looked down at her.
She glanced up at him, and then spoke. "Do you want to get in with me?"
He hesitated. "What?"
Her smirk was far too convincing. "In the water. We're caked in mud, Unaril."
"Someone might see us and misinterpret."
"I'm still the only one who comes here."
He scratched the back of his head. "That...actually makes it worse. I might not be able to resist your wiles this time around," he teased, but his laughter trickled away as he watched her shuck her tunic, and then her shorts, leaving her all but bare. He could barely believe this had just happened so suddenly. She was definitely a sight for sore eyes, but he knew this should not be happening, now. Did she realize what she was doing to him?
"In you go," she beckoned him, "Unless you want to stay muddy."
A smile stole onto his mouth as he let his eyes wander against his better judgment. "I can't say I do." He lost his train of thought at that point, every fiber in him now magnetized to her.
She launched herself off the edge of the pool and into the water, generating a splash that hit every side. The water rippled outward as her head surfaced, already clean of the mud. She wiped her eyes and smiled up at him from the pool.
"Unaril, it'll be weird if you're just standing there the whole time."
He let out a sudden laugh and stripped, then dipped himself into the water. It was cool, but somehow warmer than the air of the forest. A pleasant temperature.
He and Nyela circled one another, treading water. Unaril gave her an intense look, though still warm.
"You do remember last time we were here, right?" he asked her quietly.
Nyela's eyes switched between his a few times, and she nodded. "Of course I do."
"This is where we got married," he joked with a masking laugh.
Her smile dazzled him against the water, and she then sighed. "You are a complicated man, Unaril."
"Am I?"
"Yes."
"I always thought I was an open book."
"Maybe, written in some dead language," Nyela retorted.
"What is complicated to you? Maybe I can help," he smiled at her, still circling.
"Are you okay?"
"I am," he responded freely. "I will be."
A few quiet, slow seconds ticked by, followed by a few more.
"Do you hate me?"
His expression flickered, brows turning upward a single degree, eyes flicking between hers. "Why would you ever think that?"
"You should."
"I could never," he said quietly.
"Even when I marry your brother?"
"Why are you doing this?" he asked her even quieter. "Nyela, why bring all of this up? You're opening wounds that need time to heal."
"Because it would be easier if you hate me," she replied just as softly.
He finally allowed a sad smile to fall in place. "I can't. I can't even try to."
His eyes followed her as she then swam toward him. He backed up until he found himself pressed against the side, then sitting on a rock ledge under the surface, and his breathing dipped to nothing when she brought herself in close, pulling herself near with her arms, an inch from his lips. He began to retract, to shy away, withdrawing for the sake of himself.
"Let me have this," she asked him quietly, a whisper, a question that pulled straight at his heart. Her hands fell just above his knees, tickling his skin. "Please."
Unaril, no longer willing to refuse as he glanced between her eyes, let his lips fall forward into hers.
A quiet moment of lingering sincerity rested there between them as their kiss matured. The leaves all around that concealed them rustled quietly in the wind, the sole sound that reached their ears other than the quiet rippling of the water at the edges of the pool. Songbirds had migrated already due to the oncoming cold, but the pool beneath them was still warm as it lapped against their skin. Unaril still refused to touch her with his hands, because he knew that if he allowed himself to do this, there was no turning back. Even now, though, something told him he'd already started down that road, even if the journey was slow.
He pulled back, resting his forehead onto hers. "We can't keep doing this, Nyela," he murmured quietly, curling his fingers to muted fists at his sides. "You know it'll escalate to something we can't undo."
"I know," she responded, and pressed her lips to his again, curling her hands into his hair. "I know we can't. It's just taking me a while to accept it."
He felt her smile when the kiss returned, and he smiled too, his hands finally drifting to her waist, and she pressed herself against his bare chest. Her skin was so soft, his restraint ate at him, tortured him.
He wrapped his arms around her and drew her in, sliding forward into the water and lifting her up closer, weaving one hand into her long magenta curls.
A snap of twigs nearby stole his attention, and he turned his head only to see that they'd been discovered.
Paetra stood just next to the abandoned 'flag' they'd left on the bank, and her expression was sharp, possibly hurt, and appalled.
"I can't believe you," Paetra blurted, her eyes wide.
Unaril released Nyela, holding a hand up toward Paetra. "Paetra, wait," he called, but she shook her head violently.
"I can't believe you'd do this to m-...to Sarion," she repeated, directing the accusation at them both, stepping backward.
"Wait, it's not what it looks like; we weren't..." Unaril trailed off as Paetra darted off through the trees. "Paetra!" he shouted, and received no response.
He let one hand cover his face. "Shhh-..." the swear went unfinished.
"We need to go talk to her," Nyela said, crawling out of the pool and pulling her clothes on. "This probably looked so much worse than it is."
"It's still bad," Unaril grunted as he hoisted himself out as well and grabbed his trousers. "Shouldn't have happened. I'm sorry. It won't again."
"Unaril," Nyela argued, and he shook his head almost violently.
"No, Nyela," he retorted quickly. He wasn't harsh, but he was firm. "This cannot happen, and it will not go any further. We need to explain this to her, and then I'm going to talk to Sarion."
"And say what?"
Unaril's mouth formed a line as he shrugged his shirt into place, but he didn't say anything.
"And say what, Unaril?" Nyela prodded. "That you kissed me? Why would you tell him that?"
"He deserves to know what happened, he deserves to know that it won't happen again, and he deserves to hear it from us, not someone...else," he waved his hand toward where Paetra had retreated. He began to walk through the trees, and Nyela nearly had to jog to keep up with his stride.
"Fine. Fine, tell him. It's only going to make him angry. The timing is wrong."
Unaril just inhaled sharply, deeply, and increased his stride as he let out a quiet sigh. "Secrets always surface, Nyela. Would you rather him hear it from us, or from someone like Paetra? Won't it hurt him more coming from her?"
This time it was her turn to be silent for a while as they passed through the trees.
"You're right," she murmured. "You're always right, Unaril. I'm sorry. It's just...Sarion and I had talked about the situation between you and me. We were going to work with you to come up with a solution. But he probably won't be happy about this."
Unaril slowed, expression softening, and he looked at her for a few seconds, then offered her a gentle smile. "It's gonna be all right."
"Yeah, probably just blowing it out of proportion," Nyela shrugged with a smile.
They continued walking, quieting for a while.
"Paetra kissed me earlier," Unaril murmured. "That might be why she's so upset. I told her I didn't want to kiss anybody, including her. And then she saw me with you. It probably hurt her feelings."
"Oh," Nyela finally said, and then fell dead silent.
Neither exchanged any further words as they headed back. By the time they reached the main tree, evening had almost transformed to night. Upon arriving, Unaril heard a sharp bark in the form of his own name, in a voice that was his twin's.
He turned toward Sarion's voice just in time to catch a flying fist to his chin, and he took the blow. It knocked his entire body back a few heavy steps as pain blossomed through his mouth and jaw. Sounds of surprise and shock came from nearby elves, and Unaril vaguely heard Nyela's frantic voice behind Sarion, attempting to reason with him, but her words were lost on both of them.
Unaril finally looked up from where he'd stooped, and he caught sight of Sarion's expression. His brother was beyond furious, but his eyes held so much betrayal and wild pain that Unaril didn't have to guess twice to realize Paetra had told him what she thought she'd seen.
Sarion's voice came out in a half-growl. "Tell me it's not true, or I swear I'll hold nothing back next time."
Unaril, chin still throbbing with pain, let out a bewildered breath. "Sarion, bloody hell, let me explain."
"Is it true?" the man bit out as he stepped forward threateningly again. Unaril stood up straight in response, wiping blood from his broken lower lip, and eyed his brother.
"It's...it is, but it's not what you think," he began, but that was all he managed before his brother's fist slammed hard against his face without any warning, causing him to reel backward. His nose exploded in a violent, throbbing pain, so obviously broken.
Nyela let out a panicked cry and put herself in front of Sarion, hands pressed against his chest. "Stop it!" she pleaded. "Sarion, he's your brother!"
Sarion's expression flickered and he looked down at her, his face switching from fury to pain, then back to anger. "You and I are going to talk," he said in the same tone as he'd used on Unaril, and then went around her. Unaril's eyes watered furiously at the pain from his nose, and he let out a barely-contained growl, hands curling in pain and growing anger. He saw Sarion seething, about ready to hit him again.
"Sarion, fuck's sake, stop it," Unaril growled.
His brother's voice was rough and livid. "I thought I could trust you," he snarled, stepping forward, but this time Unaril dodged away.
"Would you just calm down?" Unaril held up a hand defensively, looking at Sarion like he'd gone insane. He really had.
If looks could kill, Unaril would've been burned to a crisp. Sarion's entire expression darkened. "Calm down? I have given you everything I could to help you. I've been doing everything I can to make this somehow easier for you," his tone had not changed, save for a wild strain of hurt festering through his growl. Unaril stumbled backward, away from his brother. Sarion continued, fists clenched and shoulders tense. "And yet you took from me the one thing you could not have."
Unaril, frustrated, let out another groan as pain shot through his head in waves. He finally stood upright again, holding two fingers at the bridge of his bleeding nose as he panted, staring at his brother, withdrawn. His entire face pounded.
"I'm sorry, but it's not what you think," he said quietly, somewhat breathlessly because it hurt to speak. "Just give me a chance to explain, Sarion, in private."
"I doubt there's much to explain," Sarion growled as he took another hard step toward his twin, fists balling up again. Unaril flinched away. He could see the way Sarion's entire body trembled; it was taking everything the man had not to just beat him senseless. Sarion was indescribably furious, and Unaril understood his brother's history with anger was not so great.
"I know what you're thinking," Unaril said carefully, glancing to the side. Nyela was standing off a ways with her mouth covered by her hands and tears streaking down her face, and the rest of their audience looked beyond shocked. Unaril took a deep breath. "I know what you think has happened, but it hasn't," his voice was quiet. He had to be smart about this; Sarion's anger was his deepest flaw, and it controlled him. Unaril had never seen him this angry, not when it was just Sarion, no fel energy.
They had a nearby audience of nearly a quarter of the tribe now, and he was surprised that no one had intervened. Fighting amongst tribe members, as he knew, was always promptly stopped. Given, he had not seen Lucian or Norivana come out of the tree yet.
"No matter how far; you've made a mistake."
Unaril waited a few, heavy seconds. "I am sorry."
"It's not that simple."
"I know. I know it isn't, Sarion." Unaril swallowed painfully, his expression pleading, "But you should know it isn't simple on my side, either."
Sarion seemed to ignite all over again with Unaril's words. He stepped forward again, and Unaril stepped away in response.
"Right, of course it's not," Sarion's tone was scathing, "because you lost thirty years' worth of time."
A heavy pause. Unaril watched as Sarion's eyes flashed strongly.
"But I lived every second of those thirty years. I mourned you. I felt your loss, and it tortured me. I struggled, we all did, and then we moved on. But you suddenly are back, and you're trying to return your life to the exact way that it was when you left. You cannot do that."
Unaril frowned, brows tightening, pain still throbbing through his entire face. "I'm not. I'm doing as much as I can to get past-"
"As much as you can?" Sarion's voice was as sharp as a razor. "Sure, if by that you mean sneaking behind my back and screwing my w-"
Crunch.
Unaril felt his own knuckles shout out in complaint as they whipped out like lightning and smacked hard into Sarion's mouth. Sarion's words were, of course, getting to him, but that wasn't why he struck him. He struck him to shut him up. They had an audience; they shouldn't even be fighting out here in the first place, shouldn't be making such a show. The timing, location, everything, was so wrong, and at this point Unaril was simply protecting Nyela's honor over all else. Though, at this point, anyone who knew anything about his brother, Nyela, and himself, would understand what was happening.
Sarion inhaled sharply, cracked his neck once as he recovered from the blow, and sent his brother a purely hateful glare, only two seconds before launching himself at him with an angry roar. He shifted form halfway through, and Unaril was met with teeth and claws.
The lighter twin shifted to his cat form as well the moment Sarion's claws sank into one shoulder, and he let out a wild snarl in response to the pain, swiping his own claws out in an attempt to knock him off.
In a mess of flying attacks and snapping jaws, the pair bit and cut at each other, rolling around in a flurry as they roared and hissed. Unaril remained on the defensive as his own brother continued to relentlessly attack, though it reached a point of where he began to feel like he was defending his own life, and in a panic, he fought back harder. This only provoked the other cat's rage, and the fight intensified.
Finally Unaril came to a split-second conclusion that if things continued the way they did, they would end up hurting someone else. So, after defending himself from one last swipe of claws, he leapt away and shifted out, stumbling backward and using his voice.
"Sarion, wait!" he barked fearfully, holding his hands up, limping on one leg as the other was severely damaged. He didn't get the chance to say another word before his twin shifted out mid-attack and knocked him onto his back, slammed one knee onto his chest, and struck him so hard his vision flickered out to black, and his hearing became fuzzy.
As suddenly as Sarion had pinned him, the man was lifted up and yanked backward, leaving Unaril lying prone on the ground, dazed and bleeding. He heard Lucian Silverpaw's voice, harsh and shocked, but he did not understand the words.
Unaril let out a cough that turned into a very quiet groan, his ears recovering as they picked up shouting from all directions. His face was on fire, lips broken and bleeding, one eye swelling, and he could feel each and every mark of his brother's anger in the form of deep cuts that stung badly. His limbs ached, his head throbbed, and he tasted so much blood that he had to turn his head to the side and spit out a mouthful. He forced himself to his feet, but then stumbled once dizzily and felt so lightheaded he crumpled nearly to his knees. A pair of arms caught him, though, and hoisted him up, pulling one of his arms up over their owner's shoulders. Unaril glanced to the side and caught a blurry vision of a man with flaming crimson hair. Julian Silverpaw held him upright, and after a second he realized he was talking.
"-we'll get you fixed right up. C'mon, one step forward. That's it, now another."
Unaril caught sight of his brother just in time to see the tribe chieftain shove the furious man into the door of the main tree. Sarion's glare during that split second had still been so dark; blood had streaked down from his nose to his chin, dousing his facial stubble, and the only reason he was not still attacking Unaril was due to the wall of tall snow-haired Druid standing in his way. Unaril had seen Nyela following after him, and she looked distraught. No, that wasn't the right word. Nyela was absolutely livid, and Unaril could only pray that glare of hers was never directed toward him.
Unaril swore under his breath, not only because of what just happened, but because he was now suffering an immense level of pain. He let Julian lead him away from the public eye, behind one of the storage cellars, and sat down with his back to the wall, head falling backward against the wood. He felt healing energies begin to knit his skin back together slowly, piece by piece, but he kept his eyes shut tightly and brows furrowed as he simply released an exhausted breath.
"Thank you, Julian," he groaned. He heard the man let out a sigh.
"I didn't know either of you had that kind of fight in you," Julian said, "and certainly not pitted against each other." His voice was so much like his father's that Unaril had to crack open an eye to make sure it was still him.
Unaril let out a pained, half-chuckle. "You should have seen us when we were teenagers. The black eyes were perpetual. I'm just surprised that the few times I had broken noses didn't leave me disfigured."
"Sarion's such a laid-back guy, and you seem even more so." Julian leaned in, face knit in concentration as he dabbed one magic-infused finger against Unaril's cracked cheekbone. "This was about my sis, yeah?"
Unaril hesitated a moment, then let his eyes fall closed in a prolonged blink as he nodded his head slowly. "Yes." The kid seemed so relaxed talking about it, and Unaril was relieved to have an ear.
"You and she were married once."
"Yes."
"Who was she with first?"
Another bout of hesitation. "Sarion."
"So..." Julian's tone was slightly humorous. "From the very start, she's just been bouncing back and forth between you two? She needs to make up her mind. Clearly her method isn't working so well," he gently tapped next to a cut on Unaril's lip, and Unaril winced.
"No, it isn't like that," Unaril braced his temple with two knuckles as his head began to pound from his injuries.
"Complicated?"
"Very."
"Is there a way to make it not so complicated?"
"Probably."
"But it'll hurt?"
"Immensely."
"Gonna do it?"
Unaril didn't respond. Julian paused his healing and tilted his head. "One of you has to give her up, and it's not going to be the one who spent thirty years of his life married to her. I think you already know this. Even if it is ultimately her choice, you may want to back off now before it's worse."
Unaril ground his teeth together at these words. He heard footsteps approach and saw someone kneel down beside Julian. It was a man Unaril didn't know, a dark-haired blood elf with strong green eyes. Unaril could immediately feel the aura the guy gave off; he was a Warlock.
"Shit," the man said in such a plain, casual tone, which for some reason hit Unaril so funny that he let a tickled smirk pull at the good side of his mouth, ignoring the pain.
The blood elf continued, "Can't say I miss that feeling. Broken nose?"
"Yeah," Julian murmured. "I'm working on it."
The Warlock gave a humorless laugh. "That was a sight to show up to. I return after three months, and the first thing I see is Sarion beating the hell out of this poor guy. What's up, kid?"
Julian sighed. "Levianath, meet Unaril Dawnstar. Unaril, meet Levianath Darkrunner." He glanced at the Warlock. "He's Sarion's twin. Disappeared thirty years ago, showed up a little under two weeks ago. Turns out he time traveled. You know, same-old," the kid joked.
"Huh," Levianath looked thoughtful and beyond curious, but he didn't press for information. He held out one hand to Unaril, still squatting. "Nice to meet you."
Unaril shook his hand lightly, careful to use his fingers even though they'd been healed. "Likewise, although the circumstances could be better."
The Warlock chuckled quietly, and reached a knuckle out to nudge Julian's shoulder. "You ready to head out after this?"
"Yeah, sure," Julian nodded, and then paused, glancing at Unaril. "I don't know if you'd want to stay here in the orchard this evening, would you?"
Unaril lifted a brow. "Is there an alternative?"
Julian finished mending his leg as he spoke. "We're heading into town, if you'd like to join us for drinks and maybe games."
"We'll probably just end up crashing at my apartment," Levianath put in. "Maybe it'll help give you and your brother some space."
"That's...thoughtful of you both," Unaril offered a mild smile. "Don't mind if I do."
"You may change your mind by the end of the night," Julian snickered.
"Oh?"
"Getting totally plastered can suck the charm right out of a person," Levianath clarified with a slight smirk. "We won't be offended if you take your leave before it's over."
"Challenge accepted," Unaril laughed, taking Julian's hand as the man pulled him up to standing. Julian patted Unaril on the back once, a 'Lucian' move, and told them both to wait there while he ran in and let his father know that Unaril was all right.
Unaril ran his fingers along his knuckles, over all the new red scars on his arms and shoulders from Sarion's claws. Julian's healing was clearly not great, and Unaril was suddenly curious if he'd scarred on his face as well.
"So..." Levianath broke the silence, and Unaril startled. He'd completely forgotten the man was standing right there. Levianath cleared his throat, looking hesitant. "You and your brother aren't all that close, then, huh?"
Unaril sighed, glancing sideways. "Actually, we're very close. But I made a huge mistake."
The Warlock's brows lifted in interest, waiting for him to explain.
Unaril scratched his chin thoughtfully, "Nyela and I were married...once. Now we aren't. But I haven't been acting like we aren't."
Levianath's mouth opened, but nothing came out for a few seconds until finally, "I see. Yikes."
"Yeah," Unaril smirked.
Levianath took a deep breath, let it out in a whistle, and laughed. "Too complicated for me, man. I say let's drink it off."
Unaril looked up and saw Julian just as he returned. Julian openly threw one arm over Unaril's shoulders, grinning brightly. "Levi's right. Let's get trashed, boys."
Next chapter is our launcher. *cackle*
