Remember Me? [Tuwa]

[Rak'kena]

Day 4 of Summer, AV 511 Rak'kena was a monster, inside and out, the epitome of a predator. The man was built of camouflage, fueled by bloodlust, and always hungered for something. It had been eleven years since he was separated from his life he loved. He lost his father, a man he was never truly fond of, but who had cast him out of his family as if he was no better than a foreigner, a slave, an idiot. The Eypharian hissed to himself as he recollected the memories. His father, tossing him out along with his mother, a woman he was closest to only because she nursed him as a babe and showed him love regardless of his own odd obtained behavior, and he hardly cared about her. She had nothing to offer him now, a whore for his father and thrown out as nothing better than one when he found the true love of his life, Rak'kena's sister, Tuwa. Yes, she was a beautiful girl, a few years younger than he, and she stole his position. She remained in the family with her own mother and their father, and she was blessed by the riches of the House. Rak'kena was nothing in their eyes. A curse upon them! There she was, just as he expected. Rak'kena had been watching Tuwa for several seasons now. Well, he had been watching her ever since they were separated, always keeping tabs on her, but recently he had been watching her like she was the one thing he wanted and it would slip through his fingers like fine sand if he dared to blink. He wasn't blinking, not today. Rak'kena saw, as he planned to see, his sister emerging from her home and move directly towards her destination, the Amphitheater of the North Winds, the House of North Wind's theater. There was a performance today, or to be specific, a rehearsal. Nobody would be there but the cast, and they would be distracted with their lines of deceit and their images of being someone they weren't. Tuwa had a habit of watching these theater dramas, performances or rehearsals, it didn't matter. She watched them, absorbed them. Rak'kena gave her plenty of space before stepping from the crowd and walking after her. He knew where to go, he didn't have to worry about losing her, only finding her before she noticed him. Not that she would recognize him, he had dropped to the Gilded, not even worthy of being in any House, she would have no reason to keep tabs on her darling brother, she was too young to even to such a thing when he was kicked out. Rak'kena, however, harbored bitterness towards her parents, their father most of all, sadly she would have to die to break their hearts. Rak'kena looked down at his side, the gladius blade securely strapped at his side, right next to the vivid kilt that stood as the lone piece of clothing on his well toned, impressively muscular body. Yes, he had the sword, but he had several weapons he used to advance himself. Women, just like men, could be swayed by the body. This, however, required the use of the steel sword at his side.

[Tuwa]

Theatre was life on stage. It could capture all of the intricacies of life in but a brief few hours, shoving together more dramatic or more hilarious occurrences than could ever happen in an entire lifetime into about the length of a decent nap. It could either be done masterfully, sending you away with a grin from ear to ear, or it could be terrible, leaving you wishing you had taken that nap instead. Fortunately for the upper classes of Ahnatep, the ones who could afford to spend their time watching such productions, the Paper Faces were masters of performing the former and failures at the latter. Life for a Noble was rather languid. It was slow and safe, never holding the terrors and threat of physical harm that seemed to prevail amongst those less fortunate. Nothing made this pacing more apparent than the gait Tuwa had, since early childhood, possessed. It wasn't necessarily slow, but it was certainly inattentive. While those who were scared for their health would spend their days watching everything, making sure nothing slipped by their gaze unnoticed. She, on the other hand, examined things for the longest periods of time, and when she wasn't looking at something she found beautiful, her eyes were straight ahead. In her mind, the robes she wore, amber and red, bought her immunity from the common ne'er-do-wells of the street. Who in their right mind would dare to assail a Noble of the West Winds, one whom could, with but an expression of their whim, have them assailed by the Jackals of the town or, if they were in the mood for something more interesting, ruin their reputation to the point that they were welcome no where within the city? Her walk was not about getting somewhere quickly. No, her walk was about getting from point A to point B and enjoying herself. That was the true perk of being of the Houses. You did not wait for them, they waited for you. Needless to say, her inattentive walk did miss some things. In this case, they were very important things. It missed the fact that someone very near and dear to her was following along behind her, waiting for her to take one wrong turn. Amber and red had absolutely no meaning to them today, especially when it was taken into consideration that this was one whom had once borne these colors on his own clothing.

[Rak'kena]

Yes, it was true. A decade ago Rak'kena was her brother. Half-blooded, but still a brother. He had been given those robes, those crimsons, those scarlets, those linens and silks. He had it all, at once point, and then they were taken from him. No, that didn't illustrate his situation clearly enough. He didn't lose clothing. That was a detestable error. He had been stolen from his rightful place and locked into the prisons of commoners. He and his mother, wretched woman that she was, were removed from the West Winds. She had lost as much as Rak'kena had, and more. She lost her lover. But Rak'kena was blinded by his anger, and he saw not her sorrows. He only felt his own raging emotions. Searing anger, like that of a smith's furnace scalding the skin until it bubbles and curls from the bone, was all he had left. Fuck the woman that had a bastard child in the House of West Winds. She should have known better than to set him up for a downfall. Fuck his father, who would dare expel his one and only son because his true betrothed demanded it. Fuck Tuwa, who had inherited all that was his, should be his. She was inferior to him, yet father had no choice but to favor her now. That forced hand eventually molded truth. With Rak'kena gone, there was no other sibling to love, so Tuwa alone was showered in it. But it was going to end. Rak'kena grinned as his sandal-clad feet stomped the earth. He was moving, now with intent, but not with reckless abandon. Yes, he would kill her, but that came later. Much later. He needed to torture her. She needed to feel the shame, the violent anger he felt. She needed to understand what she had stolen from him, and what she had created in him because of it. Surely she wouldn't remember she even had a brother. The few memories of child storytelling and self directed and acted dramas with each other that had not evaporated by now were only catalysts for his bitterness. He had loved her so much, even if he was strange, different, atypical. He had loved her so much, yet she had never once, to his knowledge, attempted to seek him out or contact him. Not since his exile. That's why he felt no remorse for his rather vivid plans upon her. Today was just another day in a series of seasons when he stalked his sister, yet today had a goal. Today, he planned to introduce himself. To stir her memory. To wake her up to the reality at hand. Rak'kena lived. Rak'kena wanted what he deserved. Rak'kena would have it. His feet pressed on, pushing a little faster. A little faster. His strides were longer and intentionally swifter until he was only a meter, perhaps two, behind his prey. The fingers on his right lower hand twitched as they subconsciously drew themselves to the sword at his side. Right here, right now, it could all end. Foolishness it was. That would earn him nothing but a death beside hers, and his memorial would be swift and dishonorable, where hers would be that of a martyr. No, that would not do. He had to do something else. Rak'kena picked up his pace once more until he was right there next to her. Closer than any commoner dared to be to such a person. He was within that bubble of acceptance that most of the Houses allowed. And this was only to start off their day together. "Hello there."