Not Quite Our Footsteps by Orin Drake
An odd thought, to be sure.

        Chapter 6


        Days passed in relative silence. Right up until the enormous crash in the hallway outside the door that was not to be opened.
        Rhe had been outside showing Jerico something. Brandon hadn't really wanted to see what was going on, but he knew that was better than getting more glares, or a potential lecture. Turning the corner just to see the girl wrench a large piece of antique vase out of her arm was more than a little unexpected.
        She didn't even bother to look at him; only tore off her sleeve and wrapped it around her arm to slow the bleeding. Like a pro. Like she'd done it a hundred times, one end of the strip held with teeth while the other tied an expert knot.
        It wasn't as though Brandon were in any rush to help her. She may have given them a place to live without iron bars and sadistic guards, but she clearly didn't want them there. Still... he couldn't have missed the light spray of blood as the shard was pulled from her flesh. He turned to get Rhe. "Stay here."
        "I don't need the healer." She insisted, her voice almost nonexistent--hoarse as though she'd been screaming. Her tone was sharp enough to carry weight, however. She made another quick knot in her makeshift tourniquet as she began to walk away--too fast, stumbling, shaking.
        Brandon muttered a vast range of curses to himself as he followed, catching up with a few quick strides and grasping onto the uninjured arm to turn her. He didn't care for the possibility of further injuries, using his momentum to slam her against the wall with every intent to ever so politely invite her to stay put.
        She surprised him. Viciousness born of emotion, adrenaline and pain, she lashed out like the fighter she was.
        There was no chance to block the kick that sent him to the floor--he simply hadn't seen it coming. Instinct woke immediately, allowing him to roll back into a crouch and ready to counter-attack. In that split second before decision, he saw her pull back and appear to be deciding whether or not to strike. He had no plans to allow her time to decide.
        Unfortunately, she wound up surprising him again. Her hand wound firmly around his throat as he pushed forward, using his confusion and momentum to let him slam himself into the wall and use her body to pin him against it. Firm grip still on his neck, she squeezed just the slightest bit to make certain he was paying attention. Her voice was alarmingly even, without the slightest hint of being defensive or wounded--but there was a tremor in her fingertips. "I'm sorry. I should have told you I don't like to be touched. Don't do it again. Okay?"
        For once in his damned life, Brandon relented. He couldn't have explained it, but... it was as if raw power surged through the air from her contact. Like she held something in the very nature of her existence that was simply... beyond. And certainly destructive. He did not want to know what was in that room. "Fine."
        Taking that as assurance enough, she easily let go. Her arm throbbed and the blood was getting everywhere... but she'd had worse. She just needed to wrap it properly and rest.
        Brandon stayed leaning against the wall just long enough to watch her walk away. He was starting to understand Rhe's unspoken discomfort in being around her. Or in the castle in general. Something was... off.




        Jerico stopped at Nikkira's door, giving pause to the idea of just sauntering in and raising hell. Brandon had told him what went on in as few words as possible... but Rhe's reaction had assured him that he needed to check on things. Rhe was silent often, sure... but not in that turning away, pretending there was no one else there sort of way.
        He sighed, trying to take that legendary "middle road": he knocked and opened the door at the same time. Stopping abruptly when he felt a blade against his jugular. It's not like it was a new thing, but it was always best to feel such situations out carefully. "Uh... oops?"
        With a sharp sigh and a mumbled curse, she lowered the sword--but kept it in her hand. "Out."
        Conversation was a... better sign... "Look, 'Kira--"
        The sword came back up, the flat cold against the juncture between Jerico's neck and chin. "Don't call me that."
        Her control over the weapon was amazing, he could see that... though he rather wished he was a little further away from the discovery. "Okay. Nik, then--"
        "Leave." It was a distinctive order, sword dropped to her side as she turned to place it back in its hiding place. "Go. Now."
        It had been pride, he'd thought... at first. Until he watched her turn away, fist clenched to white around the hilt of the sword, shoulders trembling. No, not just pride--something far deeper wounded. He had no intention of honoring her suggestion. "How was this time any different from the rest?"
        She didn't turn to look at him as she responded, voice heavy and cold. "You're not building up any points, you realize. You're still free to stay in the castle. And well out of my business."
        Tempting, he had to admit. But, aside from an insane amount of curiosity... he kinda liked what he knew of her. Maybe not the best social skills and kind of a hardass, but... still kinda fun. "I wouldn't literally be putting my neck on the line if I didn't really want to know."
        "Just go." Her voice was tired and far softer. She hardly had the strength of will to battle, with words or weapons. She needed to rest, to regain her energy...
        Well... he was putting his life on the line, alright... but something in his long-trusted instincts told him it would be worthwhile. He leaped for her, taking advantage of her weakness to pin her to her bed with the whole of his body. "I promise I will leave you alone for as long as you want me to, but you have to tell what what that fucking monster did that's so different from every other time you get hurt."
        She growled in a feral, animalistic way--but she knew she didn't have the strength to throw him off. She could bite, tear at his eyes... but somehow she didn't really want to do that. It was clear he intended to keep her there for as long as it would take to get a decent answer...and she hated his conviction. There was no reason behind it... but if that's what he wanted. He'd asked. "Sometimes... that fucking monster is still my brother." She hissed.
        Jerico blinked at the concept, the admission... then let go. He almost delicately climbed off of her, stopping at the foot of her bed just to... look. Not to stare, but to really look at her. Brother..? There were... many things left out of the explanation, of course, but... well. He'd made a promise. He would keep it. Until she specifically sought him out... he would just have to be curious.
        She heard the door close behind him, turning to make sure he was gone only after the footsteps in the hallway had faded. Already she'd said too much... but she'd been holding it for so long that it had gotten too heavy. Those days when her brother had a moment of true coherency... hurt so much worse than the physical wounds.
        She didn't bother undressing, far too tired to move. She slept where she was left, falling into a deep slumber as soon as she closed her eyes.
        She dreamed of the giant, from a distance. That was okay. That was safe.

Content copyright Orin Drake 2011.
Use without linking back to the source makes you a dick.