My Brother's Keeper (Saeran and Sama'el)

[Denen Sunsinger]

88 Winter 510 AV Three days seemed like forever. Reth had been tied to the Web, and evidence of his death had been swept away from the Pavilion, but Denen's heart was heavy still. He was tired, drawn from the lack of sleep. The past nights had been spent awake, sitting a bit off from the furs, his legs hugged close to his chest, face pressed into his knees in order to keep himself from waking Sama'el with his crying. He would snuggle into his friend until Sam fell asleep, and then draw away to mourn. It was painful, almost agonizingly so, and he struggled to lift his spirits. He tried valiantly. He didn't want to make Sam and Dymphna uncomfortable with his grieving. What was more, Denen had only known loss like this once before, and even then, with the shock of Jada's death, it had not been thus. Reth was different. Reth had been the being closest to his soul, and he was gone now. Denen didn't know, nor could he imagine, where he would have been, had he been without Sama'el and Dymphna, and this new, tiny family. They'd held him together, comforting him whenever he appeared weak, and even when he managed to feign being all right. They had both lost Striders in the past, knew what his heart was suffering, and were more loving and attentive for it. He needed them, and in turn, they gave his all. Was that not what family was for? It was early morning, and Denen had risen from bed to light the fire and sat by it now, wrapped in his cloak. The sky was dim still, and Denen was quiet, muted as was the sun. He covered his head with his arms, and curled in on himself for warmth and comfort. Goddess, he whispered in thought, please strengthen me. Heal my heart...Give me the courage to heal my heart. He rubbed his hands down his face and sighed in irritation. He needed to be better than this, braver than this. Endrykas was waking up around him, and as he sat by the fire, people came and went by, moving on with their lives, while he remained where he sat, thoughtful. Too thoughtful.

[Saeran Brokensong]

Saeran felt utterly at ease this day. He had slept well, ate well, and was content with his conversations between various family members. The day was young, and there was work to do. People to tend to, his horse to groom. Life as a Drykas always came with hard work, and those who followed through reaped the rewards. Ran was known to reap them well. He was a generous individual, who often displayed a paternal part of him when he interacted with his younger siblings. Now that he was alone this morning, he found he had plenty of time before the true work began. Others had been roused from their sleep, but Ran chose to ignore them. He walked amongst the tents of his Pavilion, the Brokensong… Something in the name brought guilt heavy upon his heart. A secret he had kept from others, and from the one who it had affected the most. Beyond the tents that comprised the Opal clan, he could see the plains roll out in waves of green, rustled by the chill breeze that coerced the rest of the populace to waken. Ran had decided that the hours between sleep and work would be better spent giving Dralion his much encouraged exercise out on the grass, to which the Strider responded with an approving snort. “Alright, let’s get your big rump out of the city then,” He called to his equine companion, just as he picked up the yvas and several grooming brushes. They walked for what was several chimes between the bustle of people going from pavilion to pavilion until Ran caught sight of what was the unmistakable form of his youngest brother, Denen. The sorrow and despair read clear on his face. His brother was in pain, and not the physical kind, but one that tore at the soul. Ran approached swiftly, kneeling before the smaller form of his sibling with a look that only belied his genuine concern. "What is wrong, brother? Why is there sorrow in your eyes? What has happened?" He signed, hoping that Denen would not withhold what should be told, no matter the pain.

[Denen Sunsinger]

Denen rubbed the back of his hand across his eyes, his shoulders slumping a bit. His thin frame shivered, in spite of the warmth from the fire, and his blue eyes were cloudy. He'd done his regular inventory already this morning, and there was no Strider to groom. He found himself tending to Horse, which was better than nothing, though the love was not there. He could appreciate a good animal, but he wasn't in any spirit to give such love soon. Still, it did his mind good to have something to occupy it. An idle mind, especially one torn by grief, was a playground for trouble. Denen didn't want to lose his. It could be said of the Brokensong children that they had learned well to work, to use whatever hours the day provided them in order to better themselves and to help others. Stone might have been a gruff father, but he made sure his sons and daughters knew their duties and followed them. Even away from the Pavilion of his birth, Denen continued this. It was part of who he was, ingrained on him. Childhood had a funny way of doing that. But he was listless today, and doing chores was difficult and dragging. Draining, even. He wanted to sleep, but every time he tried, he found himself restless and edgy. What sleep he did get was fitful and short, with dreams he didn't much enjoy. His dreams had always been his sanctuary, and now, they were less fulfilling than the world of wakefulness. Denen was caught completely off guard when his brother suddenly appeared on his knees before him. He hadn't heard him coming, and he didn't have Reth to alert him now, leaving him incredibly vulnerable. He startled, and scrambled back at first, until he realized who it was and what he was saying to him. He seemed unsure, at first, if he ought to reply or not, and when he did, his hands were hesitant. "Reth is dead," he answered simply. But his blue eyes became livid in color as tears overwhelmed them. "By my hand. I had no choice." And hadn't Drykas law bid him do just that? Was it not taught, among their seven laws, to help those who were beyond hope onto their next life? Denen was just a force in all of this. A means to an end. He had done his best to prolong Reth's life, to make it comfortable, but on that morning, there had been absolutely no denying what needed to be done. And Denen had done it. He hung his head then, not wishing for his brother to see how it burned in him to be guilty of such a sin, whether or not it was truly so. He looked to his bony knees and chewed his lip, shaking his head. "What are you doing here, Saeran? Did Father send you?" He hadn't heard from his family since blowing up at his father on his birthday. Still, part of him doubted that he'd been sent by Stone. It didn't seem in his father's nature.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sama'el wasn't lazy; far from it. But when he stayed up into the wee hours taking care of odds and ends, working on his skills, and the like, he had to get his sleep somewhere. This morning, anyway, he was leaving to go on a circuit with the Watch, and so he tried to take care of everything so Denen wouldn't be left with too much to deal with in his absence, even if Dymphna would likely drop by to help. She was a kind and generous soul like that; it had nothing to do with wanting to get into Sama'el's pants, marry him, and make babies. He was pulling himself together as he came out of his tent, his growing hair shaggy and unkempt from sleeping on it. His winter clothes of wool were a bit large, that anticipated winter weight never manifesting as he trained so hard to make a good Watchman, though the riding leathers were properly fitted. Yawning, stretching, he was patting about his person for things he needed, even if they would be properly stowed on Dohaina when the time came to leave: scimitar, hunting knife... Mid-yawn, he noticed Denen and a man who could very easily have been a relative. He didn't remember seeing him when they had gone to the Brokensong pavilion for his friend's birthday, but there were strong similarities both to Denen and to Stone. "Welcome to our camp," he said, straightening himself. "I am Sama'el."

[Saeran Brokensong]

Reading the thoughts and emotions of people was far easier than reading them for ghosts. Ghosts’ emotions rarely showed in their features as most would not be fully manifested to allow scrutinization. It was the actions that had to be paid close attention to that were the most important, and Semele knows how long Saeran had watched the miniscule reactions of his fellow Drykas and, to a greater extent, his own family. He kneeled close to his brother, touching him gently, on his arms, his cheek, checking for any signs of injury or a splash of red to equate the tears to external pain. But as his eyes roamed Denen’s own, and the younger sibling signed the cause of his anguish and sorrow, Ran paused. He had been correct. He is with our ancestors, Denen, he signed gently, He is without pain, be at peace, he will return in a new life. Be at peace, brother. Ran blinked at Denen’s inquiry about his presence. He sighed softly in response, Can your own flesh and blood not visit you without some reason from Father? I find that insulting. And he smiled, a bright smile meant to cheer up the boy who seemed, on this day, to need it the most. At the sound of another voice penetrating the chorus of Drykas, Ran glanced up. Another boy, seemingly no older than Denen, he raised a hand in greeting and stood. “My apologies for intruding, I didn’t mean to trespass without permission,” Saeran said, “My name is Saeran Brokensong of the Opal Clan. A pleasure, Sama’el. This would be the first time I have seen my little brother’s new pavilion.”

[Lariat]

Denen Brokensong

Experience:

Lores:

Coping with the loss of your strider
No strings attached

Saeran Brokensong

Experience:

Lores:

Words of wisdom
No strings attached

Sama'el

Experience:

Lores:
Saeran is Sama'el's brother?

Thoughts: If you have any questions about what I handed out guys just send me a pm.