cause for celebration

Silas Agata · 12-04-2010, 08:14 PM

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The letters made true the news Anatoliy had had to spill. The young Russian stared down at his father’s handwriting long after he had read through the message it contained. This was it. It was final. He and Anatoliy were own their own now, whether they had wanted to be or not. It was so unreal – such an unexpected turn in a day Silas had all but planned out. The sound of footfall alerted him that his brother had stepped out of the house, but Silas did not turn his gaze to greet him. Instead, he merely starred down at the notes, even as his brother’s hand came to rest on his shoulder.

It was hard not to feel somewhat like a puppy again. Silas could feel the urge within him to cry, but he fought back the moisture and choked down the frog in his throat. "Aye, Tol. Of courze." It did help to know his brother would still be around, but it wasn’t enough to console Silas completely. He turned to face him, his palms falling to his sides with the notes still held precariously in his hands. "I von’t go after zhem. Zhere’s no point," he shrugged uselessly, while his pale gaze fluttered down by the men’s clawed feet. "Do you vant zhem?" He asked then, lifting his gaze to find his brother’s, and lifting the notes between them. He didn’t want them around – didn’t want the reminders. Perhaps the cupboard was the best place for them.

table by kahilli

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