The Blood of Our Brothers

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The Blood of Our Brothers

Post  Mousen Heath on Tue 08 Nov 2011, 11:59 am

The Blood of Our Brothers.

A note to the reader: This story contains some mild gore, a small amount of violence and one instance of swearing. To put it reasonably, it is no more offending than the first Harry Potter book, though definitely not as well written. I know this as I wrote it myself. I still hope you enjoy it, regardless. <3

It was snowing again. The white spirit was well aware that he shouldn't have been this far North, he didn't care. He was here to see someone, someone important. As he pressed on, the snow turned to hail, bouncing off his back rolling down to the floor. He shiverred in the cold. Despite living far in the South of Aeris, he'd always been able to cope with low temperatures, but there was something very bone chilling about that night. Between thick, dark cloud the stars shone clearly down.

Oddin's breath turned into mist as he got closer to the little village of Bjorn. A white figure with a lantern against the white snow, the only thing distinguishing him from the landscape around him were the red markings on his fur. If she'd been able to see, Bjorn (the spirit that is) would have probably remarked how handsome he looked.

She could hear him though, his feet lithe enough to not sink deeply into the snow. She could hear the slight chink of the lantern as he walked. Infact, as she'd come to realize, she didn't really need to see at all. Her world was that of sounds and vibration, she could paint a picture in her mind as clearly as you saw it with your own two eyes.

"Oddin." She breathed, the sound so slight you might have mistaken it for the wind. "You must have something important to say, especially since you've braved this weather."
"It's not the weather I'm worried about."
Bjorn nodded, her ears flickering briefly. "My brother isn't here."
"Good. There's something I'd like to tell you."

It was Oddin's fault she was blind in the first place, she'd been angry at him for awhile. Furious, not just because the incident had been mostly his fault, but because he hadn't listened to her in the first place. As she'd soon learnt, Oddin was a very hard jackalope to stay angry at. Since they'd all agreed to be sealed away, until the time was right for them to be free again, things had changed dramatically. Oddin had changed, no longer was he obsessed with wisdom and knowledge. Unless you counted the spiritual kind of knowledge, he'd become far more otherworldly since the last time they'd met. His dark eyes were no longer full of secrets, they held no lies, just remorse. Bjorn heard this in his voice, the tone was lower, more medative somehow.

"Hurry up then, before you die o' cold. If he sees you near me, there's going to be hell to pay."
"... It isn't easy for me, to come here... To tell you these things. I- I think I should start from the begining."
"That is where most people start."
He smiled, breathing a tentative laugh through his nose. "Indeed. I... I'm sorry. I forgot how... How charming you are."
A brow was raised. "That's not the word most people use to describe me."
"... Most people don't know you as well as I. Anway, the thing is, Bjorn... I have been thinking for a long time, and I-"

Fenris always did like a dramatic entrance. He stood a few feet behind Oddin with a face like thunder, he cleared his throat. His anger was simmering, just about to boil over. His dark blue coat made him almost invisible in the shadows, as he walked a few snowflakes fell from his antlers and the ground frosted over. Bjorn's hearing was good, but when Fenris walked on snow he was as good as silent.

"What did I say I'd do to you if I caught you anywhere near my sister? Or for that matter, on this territory, where you are not welcome?" His voice was a deep growl, he was quite a bit larger than Oddin. He was well-muscled for a spirit, there was a heaviness about him that contrasted so much with the thin, but rather tall jackalope infront of him.

"You said you were going to make me wish I'd caught and died of the disease I started. Which as you know, causes an extremely painful and slow death, so I suppose you are going to bring me an even slower and infinitely more painful demise. If you have the nerve to, I'm not going to fight you, Fenris."

The blue jackalope launched himself at the white, his claws scraping across his pelt. Oddin didn't fight back, he just sat there, picking himself up gingerly when Fenris took a step backwards. The white jackalope spat out a mouthful of blood, leaning against a tree to support his weight.

"I'm not going to fight you." He repeated, steadfast.

Bjorn, who'd heard enough to understand what was going on stepped between the two. "Fenris! For the love of Aeris! Would you please just stop! He hasn't come to hurt me, or do anything against us, he came to see me! He came for me, knowing full well you'd hunt him like game the minute he stepped into the village!"

"This isn't just about you, it's about the cost of his little obsession. Thought he could play God! He thought he could figure out the secret of life itself if he gave it enough time, and it drove him mad." His voice had gone quiet again, the brown-furred spirit knew this was a warning sign.

"Please, just let him go. Unlike him, I will fight." Bjorn was quickly thrown aside as Fenris lunged for Oddin once again, this time flinging him up against the pine he'd been leaning agaist. There was a distict cracking sound, and for a moment Fenris's facade wavered. He stepped backwards, if only to make sure that Oddin was still breathing.

He was. Just.

"You utter bastard." Oddin muttered, blood running onto the snow-covered ground. "I'm not saying I didn't deserve it, but that does bloody well hurt."
"You shouldn't be concious."
"It's harder to..." Cough. "...dispose of a talking body, I guess."
"You can't heal yourself untill you're unconcious."
"I can't."
"What?"
Oddin took a shuddering breath, coughing violently. "The seal on the temple, it'll weaken a little if I heal myself... Too risky."

"It's too risky to let you die, Oddin!" Bjorn exclaimed, pushing her brother out of the way to sit beside the white spirit. Her paw hovered a few centimetres above him, and her expression gre more serious. "This is really bad, isn't it?"
"Quite." Oddin admitted after a moment, his eyes half closed as he lay in the snow.
"You are to focus on healing yourself this instant. The minute you're comprimised, so is the temple."
"If... If you insissst." The white jackalope managed, sliding into unconciousness. Bjorn could hear his breathing easing up as his bones knitted themsleves together and as wounds closed, for the most part, anyway. There was only so much this 'healing' could do. The spirits gathered that they would die whenever the area they watched over no longer needed protecting, that was probably why they felt the pain that the place did.

During earthquakes, Ochre felt as if he'd been thrown off a cliff and dragged back up it again, when the storms got bad Svanhildr felt as if she was about to fall apart. It was part of life to them. It meant that their own injuries were merely superficial, though that didn't mean that they didn't need recovery time. Oddin was going to be extremely sore when he woke up.

She turned to Fenris, who looked surprisingly shaken. "What? Scared of your own handiwork? We will have words about this, and the council will be informed." The council of the other Elder Spirits were not going to be impressed by this incident. "I'm sure Svanhildr will think the world of you." It was a low card to play, but right now, Bjorn didn't care. "And if you so much as touch a hair on his head, Svanhildr will know a hell of alot more about you than you'd like." With that she strode off into the forest.

It seemed, as one left, another Elder Spirit appeared. It was Ochre's turn to make a dramatic entrance. His pelt a deep red in colour and left scarred by the many fights and the many earthquakes he'd endured over the years. Oddin was his younger brother. He took one look at Fenris and spat at his feet, the message was clear. They were two opposites, the spirits of the most northern, and the most southern points of Aeris. The air practically crackled with tension.
"You could have killed him."
"Impossible."
"There was an earthquake earlier today. If the center had been slightly more to the east... You could have killed him, Fenris. He's made mistakes, and he's payed for each of them a thousand times over. I think you'd best leave him alone. I won't stand for it."
"Is that a threat?"
"If it has to be, then yes, it is."
"Very well then."

Ochre slung the unconcious Oddin over his shoulder and they both disappeared into the forests. Fenris knew they were already gone, back to the arid heat of southern Aeris. He just hoped the events of that night wouldn't split it down the middle...
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Mousen Heath
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