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The conversation was akin to daggers into his skin. It was not unusual. Anise was a viper for a good cause, honeyed words and kind smiles hiding a sadism the sylvari was more than used to. Oh, but this conversation. It was worse than ever before, played as it was in the home he had sworn never to return to.

"Worried your mother might not approve of all your naughty misadventures?"

But there he was, there she was, holding his leach and rampaging into his wounds like a wolf after its dinner.

"I'm sure she has far larger concerns," he snapped out.

"True. You are only one among her thousands of children. Not as dear as her firstborn, like our heroic Pact Marshal."

The knife dug deeper; the blade twisted more strongly. Canach felt his hands trying to move, body tense and ready to close around the façade the Countess had chosen. The one she didn't and could never understand.

"It may be wiser…"

"It may be wiser to not speak of that you do not understand, Countess."

They were no longer alone. Without their awareness, the Commander of the Pack had joined them. Perhaps it was the homecoming but the sapling had not bothered to cover her heritage, choosing to don the light armour which was so common to their people. And while her weapons were hidden away, as expected from a mission of peace, her eyes were virtually slits, harsh lavender for once not against him or focused on his form and words but on the human.

Dislike flowed from her in waves; a magic without physical form.

"I appreciate your games as much as anyone else," Synthir continued (was it Synthir? Senier? Sinaer? So many saplings, so many names.) "It is your choice and your right to play them. But in my home, on the slopes of my mother, I won't allow you to use her name to harm him. I will not. You have no right."

Anise's eyes, an unnatural tone conjured by magic, narrowed lightly. Displeased.

(Perhaps Senth was not completely useless.)

"I did not mean any offence, my friend."

(You did. Of course you did. You just didn't expect to be overheard or that anyone would care enough to interfere.) And she cared, Canach realised as he watched the familiar face. She might play the game, follow the Pale Tree and the Firstborn and all of their many (many) commands but she had been born after. Born last. Born when love was little and she was a drop in an ocean of like-minded tools all wrapped up in a single dream. (How tiny was her presence in their mother's heart, how little she mattered in such a large picture? How much could she ignore that fact in order to continue loving the shining white figure?

How tiny was his, how little he mattered, how could he continue loving her?)

The Commander's fingers, lithe and thin, tightened against her clothing.

"Then I'm sure you will find charity in your heart to not touch such a subject in a careless manner, Countess." Her tone lost great part of its initial aggression and sounded almost gentle as the woman forced a smile upon her expression. A lovely one indeed, nearly as real as the Countess's disguise.

"Brother." Her head lowered the tiniest bit as she moved past, ready to join her group. It was likely the first time she had addressed him as such. An united front born of wounds shared, was it?

"Sister." For just this once, that was fine.

"It seems I should have known better than to meddle in your family affairs," the Countess continued. Her tone carried an odd trace of apology woven in between her words, more than likely not directed at him but at the sapling which was slowly enveloped by her companions. "I must speak with her at a later date. It is not a good idea to have the Commander of the Pact upset at you. It makes diplomacy so much more complicated."

"I thought your diplomacy usually involved blades," he commented blandly.

Anise crossed her arms and he could swear she was a little thrown off his game. Which he liked. He liked it very much indeed. "Not with her, Blossom. Synthaer is very adept at using them herself."

"I have noticed."

Synthaer, was it? He guessed it wouldn't be a bad idea to know at least that, especially considering she had managed to defeat him. And, after all, she was his sister. An annoying, violent interfering sister who meddled in far too much, especially when not required to.

After all, she understood.

Author's note - Based on the World's Summit mission from the Living Story 2 and on the fact that the line Anise delivers about the Pale Tree's preference for her Firstborn is an incredible low blow. In case it is not obvious, sorry for the constant time skips but this is a drabble dump so it will keep happening. Opinions are, as always, welcome.