He wasn’t sure just why, but there was some relief that released when Anatoliy took the notes away from Silas’s grasp. It was as if he had been holding a grenade, but now it had been passed on to someone else. For now, he felt slightly numb from it all. A slow ache was building in his chest, but it had yet to manifest completely and pull Silas away into a dark depression. For now, Silas wasn’t sure just what to do. Later, when in the privacy of his own room, the young Russian was sure to the let the pain spread, and mourn the departure of his family in his own way.
Shaking his head, setting the dark onyx hair bouncing, Silas realized he agreed with his brother. Somehow, it was not right to leave the notes behind, and yet neither wanted to claim them. It only seemed right that they took the notes to the sea – the same place the original owners had gone as well. "Aye, brozher. Let’s." He turned then, as if to head in the right direction, before realizing he did not know the way. Pale blue eyes looked expectantly to the warm brown, waiting for Tol to lead them to the waves.
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