(Flashback)Kiss me. K-K-Kiss me. (Riki)

[Denen Sunsinger]

Summer 67, 508 Summer had been very quiet. With Jada gone, Denen was very much alone. Stone rarely spoke to his son or even acknowledge his presence, and his siblings did their best to pick up the slack left behind as the second wife slipped into the Web. Denen, who had always been isolated, was now very much alone. This death gave him much to ponder, and Denen didn't care for the stress it laid on his mind. The entire thing had been disturbing, more so because Denen had been the one to find her body. He sat now by himself at the edge of his father's Pavilion, his legs crossed, fingers twining horse hair together to make quick field thread. It was stronger than twined thread and more effective. And in limitless supply amongst the Drykas. He'd been set to this task by Pebble, who hoped the tediousness might keep Denen's mind off of Jada. She worried over him and the weight he'd lost in the past weeks, but no amount of coaxing could convince the boy to eat more than he needed to live. Perhaps it had been the look in Jada's eyes, but each day had proven difficult for Denen, and he felt unmeasurable guilt at his adopted mother's death. He knew it had been difficult for her to raise him. He'd had horrific ear infections as a child, which eventually rendered him deaf. That, too, had been a struggle, along with the awkwardness that separated him from the other children. His eyes grew tired now, and he set the twine in his lap, cupping his face in his hands. Gods, he wanted a hug.

[Riki Stormheart]

It surprised Riki a bit how many of his siblings ended up becoming warriors. It was the complete opposite of his calling, healing. While he was working to make sure his fellow Drykas, or really anyone who came to him in need of healing, were healthy and patched up, his sisters were both more concerned with breaking bones and roughing others up. He could understand the calling in a way. Athe and Anila's personalities were both better suited for keeping the city safe. Still, their differing interests had caused a bit of a rift between the siblings. Riki never knew what to talk to them about and even worse, he rarely had the time to. At the moment Riki found himself wandering. He simply walked through the city, eyeing the pavilions as he went. He was not sure what he was aiming to do or where he was going. He just wanted to clear his mind. A boy caught his eye as he walked. He sat at the edge of the Brokensong Pavilion working quietly with his fingers on what seemed to be a thread. He knew of his boy. Denen Brokensong. His green eyes seemed to cloud as he looked at him. The boy appeared despondent and detached. "Denen…" Riki's voice was somewhat quiet and soft. He wanted to know what was bothering the boy but he had never been too good with trying to get information out of people. He always ended up getting nervous or saying the wrong thing. Quietly, Riki sat down across from the boy. His eyes looked forward, trying to figure out what to say to him. He had heard something about him recently although he could not remember exactly what. "Hello Denen. How are you feeling?" He was not sure that the question was the most appropriate but it might give him some answers. Silently he cursed himself for being so awkward in conversation. He wished he could speak as well as the others in his pavilion but his was cursed with a soft voice that rarely carried an air of strength that people tended to cling to. He wanted to seem strong though. If not for himself, then for others.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen's brothers were strong men, built like Stone, their father. Denen was slight and slender, a male replica of his mother. He often wondered if that was why his father looked at him as he did, if perhaps the boy's similarities to Yew brought back memories of a pretty girl in her teens, a fresh, delicate face paled with death. Denen had often stared at his reflection in the surfaces of water buckets, trying to imagine what it was that his mother had looked like. He had only the stories of others, and the pain that had been ever present in Jada's eyes, as if she knew more than she could or would ever tell him. It was that pain that left an aching pit in his chest, as though her death was his fault. Endrykas was relatively small, and large families of the same clan often interacted, especially to trade secrets or ingredients. It was a means of survival. They married into the secrets and trades. Talents grew that way, and heritages were preserved. Denen, of course, knew of the Stormheart Pavilion. He didn't exactly have a lot of friends in it, per se, or...any, really, but he knew it existed, and he knew some of the members by appearance and name. Riki was one of these, only because Denen thought he looked so very kind. There was something worthy of trust in his eyes. He did not hear his name spoken, but Reth, who had been eating nearby, strode up and nudged his boy in the back patiently. Denen looked first to the horse, who jerked his head in Riki's direction. The boy dried his eyes and swallowed hard, flushing a bright red. He was fairly certain he knew what he had been asked, but tears made it difficult to read lips. “I...I am g-getting by,” he answered. He wondered if Riki knew of Jada's death. Stone had been ashamed of how she had been found, of what his son had seen. Denen wasn't allowed to speak of it. Her death was, instead, blamed on an accident. No one wanted to say she had killed herself, for none could venture a guess as to why. Jada had taken her secret to her grave, leaving the boy she'd killed a sweet, innocent girl to have to pick up the broken pieces of his young life alone. “Y-You...Y-You...are...Riki.”

[Riki Stormheart]

Riki had heard from his father what had happened to Jada, or at least the form of the story that the rest of the clan was allowed to hear. The young healer had not even known the woman but the sound of the news still bothered him. It made him wonder if he should have even been a healer. What good was an Opal clan Drykas who could not deal with death? He looked forward to Denen awkwardly. He was able to calm those who were in need of a stable voice but not those who were in need of a parental figure to return from the dead. His father was so much better than him at these things. Riki tried to channel a bit of him as he spoke to Denen. "Yeah, I'm Riki. It is nice to meet you Denen." He smiled lightly at the boy wishing there was something he could do for him. His mark could only heal the physical, not the emotional. "Do you want to talk about it?" He was not sure if Denen just wanted to bury his feelings of Jada or if he needed someone to vent to. "Is there anything I can do? Do you need anything?"