Work Text:
Ants. They almost looked like ants. A stray thought crossed Myra’s brain as she gazes on an encampment from afar. She had told her friends she was visiting her mother, which wasn’t a lie. But every year Myra made a self -sustained tradition to check on her extended family. The Tumet tribe were not static and often were difficult to track down, but she retained her tricks from all those years ago, it only took her a few days to pin down at most.
The smell of drying meats and spices could be garnered even at this distance, likely smoking food for travel as they were sure to pack up again soon. Her body lay flush against a rocky outcropping, head resting in her palm as her gaze flicks back and forth over the camp. The Auri’s mind is cast back to those days long gone, but never forgotten. She often was curious how her family was faring. If her little brother had done well on his Rite of Passage, if Mother and Father were in good health. Despite her curiosities she could never bring herself to try to contact them.
Why didn’t she go back? Why did she not track them down after the Qestir had nursed her back to health? When she was young she used to blame it on tradition – an ignorant ritual needlessly putting the lives of children at risk, but she had matured since then. If that was still her reasoning she would have been branded a hypocrite the moment she took the oath of silence. Yet, she still lacked an answer.
“Oi, Woman! What are you doing?”, a raspy voice snaps her out of her stupor, jumping out of her skin as she wheels around to face the voice. A tall male au’ra, with a shock of jet black hair cut reasonably short. Across his shoulder was slung a massive body of a tiger – a respectable hunting haul it would seem – as he sets the carcass down. Most notably were his garments, unmistakably Tumet with it’s rich earthy tones speckled with pastel blue accents. Myra thought her point of observation was far removed from anywhere they might wander, but it would seem not so.
The small auri cleared her throat, starting to sign out in simple gesture, unsure yet if this individual would even understand. [My apologies, I was just leaving your camp from doing some trade, I wanted to stop for a rest before my trek back to Reunion.]
Much to her surprise he nods in understanding, taking a seat down on a rock opposite of her as the man cracks his neck. “I see. Allow me to introduce myself, I am Altan of the Tumet. And Reunion-“ Altan points as Myra follows his hand towards the opposite horizon, across the encampment and into the distance. “-is that direction.” Leaning forward with intent, he rests his chin atop laced fingers. “What are you doing?”.
His eyes glinted of silver, with light purple limbals laced around them like violet halos. A breath caught in the back of Myra’s throat, she’d seen those eyes before. A long, long time ago. She stayed frozen firmly in place, unsure of what quite to do, staring into the stranger’s gaze as if she had seen a ghost. Seconds pass that feel like an eternity as Altan patiently watches her like a hawk, a predator ready to strike at any sign of weakness. A loud gulp is heard as she swallows down the lump wedged in her throat, finding resolve as she pulls back the sleeve of her coat.
Upon her wrist a bracelet made of woven rope, surprisingly intricate and tinged with years of dirt and grime, despite of which it’s multicolored strands still were able to be distinguished. Her watchful companion regards the bracelet for a moment before his eyes shoot wide, jaw nearly hitting the ground as he bolts up to seize her hand. Scrutinizing, he runs a finger over the frayed fibers a few times before turning his attention back to her, meeting her own staring gaze.
“I recognize this pattern… Sister?”, he speaks to her, voice barely above a whisper. Myra can barely nod out a response before throwing his arms around the small woman, barely half his height as he tightens the embrace. “You’ve come back, after all this time you’re here. You’re alive. There’s no time to waste, come-“, He tugs on her hand, moving to start on the path down the cliffside as he feels resistance; Myra firmly planted in place against his lead.
“Sister? What’s the matter?”, he inquires, meeting his sister’s now sullen gaze.
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The sun had well dipped below the horizon, the brilliant night sky of the Steppe reaching from end to end to play as the two siblings sit across from each other. A few hours had passed in discussion as Myra had fervently resisted the idea of meeting the rest of her family, as time went on Altan had become increasingly unresponsive; first only shooting her one word questions and answers before soon remaining silent altogether. Myra reaches out to her younger sibling as Altan pulls his hand away, finally rising to his feet.
“I can’t believe this, you’re leaving us twice now.”, he finally speaks, staring down into the Tumet camp from their lookout. “You have been alive all this time and you’ve never thought to come back? You never considered bringing peace of mind to your own family?”
[Altan, I’m sorry, I was young and scared], her signs cut off by his upheld hand. “It has been sixteen years. You’ve had plenty of time. You chose to never come back. You abandoned all of us.” Fingers run through his black hair in frustration, taking a long, deep breath followed to an exasperated sigh. “After Myra passed away you were all I had to look up to. Then you never returned from your Trials, we thought you had died, we all thought we lost you. I was the only one left to take care of Mother and Father.”
Myra could start to feel mists of guilt welling up in her eyes, tensing her gaze to try to stay strong, [I looked up to Myra too-], a loud snap rings out as Altan slaps her hands down from their gesturing, his eyes now ablaze with anger. “You don’t get any right to say her name. You parade it around as your own what, in your own words to ‘honor’ her. You’re a disgrace. You soil her name, using it like it belongs to you. If you want to atone, come back with me, please. Make our family whole again.” The fury in his argent visage had softened now to a plea, his large hands swallowing hers with a tense grip, awaiting eagerly for a response.
She could feel the tension welling up in her throat, the very thought of seeing her Mother and Father again tempting, but she knew she didn’t belong anymore. It had been too long, and off of her brother’s reaction alone she shuddered at the thought of hurting them again twiceover. Myra shakes her head side to side, never breaking eye contact with her younger sibling before he hangs his head down in defeat.
“Leave then.”, the words grumbled out from him as he rose to his feet. “Leave and don’t ever come back. You bring shame to the Tumet, shame to our family, and shame especially to Myra, you spineless coward.” His last three words spit like venom, causing Myra to visibly flinch. “The woman I looked up to and praised as a child is nothing more than a selfish coward who flees from her problems. Perhaps it’s better Myra isn’t around to see what her sister had become. Clear yourself of that undeserved name and get out of my sight.” The sensation welling up behind her eyes had all but broken, on the verge of tears as she silently listens to his verbal assault, fists balled up into white-knuckled lumps as she stares at the gravel beneath.
“Mother and Father still think you to be dead. Maybe it’s best we keep it that way.”, Altan’s voice speaks out again as she looks up to meet his gaze, only to feel a hand clamped around her jaw. Altan’s grip squeezing in as she feels her joints pop, hands gripping at his wrist helplessly. “If you ever show your face around here again, I’ll kill you myself.”. The words come in a whisper but spoken like searing coals right against her aurals, before his grip relinquishes. Without another word he retrieves his kill and starts off towards the camp, fading away into the night’s darkness.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The trip home was tense, too tense for her liking. Myra felt sick to her stomach, like she wanted to vomit. Her trek to Kugane from the Steppe felt like an eternity, the stomach churning effects of aetheryte travel not even bothering to phase her as she sets foot outside of her home. The café door bell chimes in to signal the Auri’s return, a dull and lifeless gaze staring straight ahead not even turning to greet her friends with anything more than a limp wave of her hand.
“How was your trip, is your Mom doing okay?” Opal had asked from above a tray of cupcakes being iced, ears flattening with concern as she looks up to see her thousand-yalm stare.
“Hey, You okay? You-“ Sky had risen from the book she had her nose pressed in, cut short as Myra trudges along past her without a second thought. She makes a beeline to the dormitories, the sound of her room closing from down the hall.
Myra slumped her form against the door as the dam had finally broken, a wash of tears silently streaming down her face as silent, choked sobs cause her stomach to wretch. Through the time her friends had known the reckless au’ra, nothing at all seemed to phase her emotionally, making it all the more jarring as a muffled scream of exasperation rings out from the back rooms. The icing bag in Opal’s hands fell to the floor in an instant, her body practically leaping across the counter as she feels a large hand clap down atop her shoulder. Looking back Phearless only shook his head, and with disdain she understood.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Dim moonlight filtered in through Myra’s window, lifeless eyes staring at the battered wall where she had thrown all matter of belongings at, a litter of down feathers surrounded her from the shredded pillow that lay beneath, knuckles battered and bruised from pounding against the floor. She found herself asking the same question as she had wondered earlier that day, that started as any other.
“Why didn’t you come back?” her mental monologue heard it in Altan’s voice with perfect clarity.
Yet she still has no answer.