Brother's Lament, Brother's Regret|Satich, Reave

[Northen Light36]

Amaro sinks down to sit on the steps of one of the houses after leaving a small tinket for the spirits, burying his head in his hands and ignoring the biting cold of the night. There's a slightly pinched, unhealthy look to the man's face and his eyes are dark with a mixture of anger and grief. "Damn you, Acqua," he growls into the darkness. “Couldn’t you at least have had the sense to run away to somewhere I could find you? Or better yet, had the damn sense not to run away in the first place?” As though in answer, the wind begins to howl – though none of the trees in the area seem to be touched by it – and the temperature drops down to an unnatural cold that seeps into Amaro’s bones and makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

“Well what else could she have done?” asks a soft voice from behind Amaro, making the man instinctively whirl around… and tumble backwards off the step. The young teenage boy standing in the doorway of the house looks down at Amaro with amusement sparkling in eyes that are uncannily like Amaro’s own. “Mind that first step, big brother,” the boy chuckles.

“Thom?” whispers Amaro, not even moving to get off the ground as he stares at the boy with a mixture of desperate hope and terror in his eyes. “But… You’re dead…”

“Well duh,” replies Thom. “That’s why I’m a ghost! And for Forces’ sake, get off your back and stand up. You look stupider then you just sounded.” Slowly, still staring at the ghost of his brother as though he might vanish if he looked away, Amaro climbs to his feet.

“What… Why are you here?” the swordsman manages to ask.

“At last, a sensible question,” Thom mutters. “The short answer is… Because you’re a forces damned idiot, big brother!”

“Thom, I… I’m sorry…” Amaro stammers. “I swear, I thought you were right behind me! If I’d known I’d never have left you there!” Thom rolls his eyes and reaches out to smack Amaro with the ghostly short sword he carried. For a transparent blade, it certainly felt solid when it connected with the side of Amaro’s head.

“I’m not talking about my death!” he grumbles. “Forces damn it Amaro, you were eighteen! Even the best warriors in Dark Cloud would have trouble facing off against five Ankegs! You did the right thing in getting the hell out. Hardly your fault I didn’t have as much sense.”

“Then why are you here?” Amaro asks, slowly adjusting to the strange situation.

“Didn’t we already cover this?” Thom grumbles, shaking his head. “You’re really slowing up in your old age, big brother. I’m here because you’re an idiot and you’re an idiot because you can’t see why your sister took off.”

“Because she was angry about losing,” replies Amaro. Thom smacks his forehead against the palm of his hand.

“Oh for Etaf’s sake,” he mutters. “Where you always this dense or is it a recent development? Amaro, she was expecting to lose. But pushing her out of the ring like that? Amaro, you went almost directly from praising her and telling her you’re proud of her to treating her like you believe she isn’t capable of making her own choices.” Thom looks sternly at Amaro, living and dead both silent for a moment. “She looks up to you, Amaro. More then I ever did. She needs you more then perhaps anyone else in her life and you couldn’t have done a better job of crushing her spirit then if you’d beaten her to death.” Thom scowls at Amaro. “Stop trying to replace me with her, Amaro. I’m dead and gone. She’s not and she loves you dearly. Try loving Acqua for who she is, not wrapping her in cotton wool because you see me in her… Before you lose her as well.” With that, Thom reaches out to touch Amaro’s shoulder before he vanishes, the air warms again and the howling wind stops.

All that remains is Amaro, sleeping deeply on the steps of a house in Satich.