Noir made some feeble argument, but she must have known how useless that was by now. Holding the toy in the air by a single, stuffed tentacle, her brother sneered at the toy and shook it a little, awaiting a pleasant ripping sound its innards to come piling out at any second. It did not, however, and Attila raised his nose to sniff at it--there was no bad scent on it, but he made a disgusted grimace and stuck out his tongue. "Damn, Noir, don't you ever wash this thing? It's gross."

His sneer returned shortly thereafter, widening only when her eyes began to well up and she reached out at him longingly. Attila simply pushed her hand aside, dangled the toy a little, then began tossing it up and the air and catching it. He skipped about as such, an occasional "Whoops!" gurgled when he purposely missed the octopus and it landed headfirst in the dirt.

"Come on, little sister, man up," he grinned, smacking the octopus roughly as if to remove the dust and dirt on it. "Don't you ever want to be as strong as your big brother Attila?"

Tears welled up in her double-sized eyes, her lip quivered, her body shook. Did Attila take pity on that poor little sister he tormented so much? No, of course not. The last time he'd seen her, they'd been months younger and he had felt sympathy for her then, thinking she was warped in the head or delayed in maturity due to her careless, childish antics. He had been too kind to her then, giving her a false sense of comfort with him. How could he stand to let that pass now? Attila knew his place as the more mature sibling and thus eldest (though he was runt of the litter). He wasn't going to let his "big" sister embarrass him, after all.

Whining, she drew closer to him; Attila simply danced around her, stepping behind her and using his towering height to bend his neck over his shoulder and dangle the octopus before her eyes. "Now Noir, you're being rude," he grinned, a maliciousness in his tone. Pulling the doll away each time she grabbed at it, he eventually stepped away from her again, beginning to toss and catch it once more. "I didn't hear the magic word. Don't you have any respect, little girl?"

Attila stopped suddenly, a brilliant idea widening his wicked grin. He turned, one hand on his hip, the other clenching the doll at its neck. "I want to hear you beg, sister," he giggled, suddenly speaking in baby talk. "Down on your knees and everything, Noir. If you're not gonna man up, then you're gonna beg."

I am sad Noir be blargh dead. ;-;

You're rude. The grin on his face immediately sprang to life, his fangs suddenly exposed in the midst of this humor. Little Noir was finally beginning to learn: She would get nowhere in life always clinging to her stupid little doll and acting like the big baby she was. He was doing her a favor, after all, and with every vindictive word she choked out he grinned all the more. It was so pleasing, seeing his hard, toiling work pull through! Her cheeks puffed up and colored, her eyes squinted, and her little mousy voice screamed out her little throat the best it could between coughs and hiccups. She looked like a child having a tantrum, like she would land on the ground at any given second, beating it with fists and crying oceans of tears. You're mean and I hate you, she bit, and his ears perked up some. Oh, little Noir was getting pushy now, and his tail began to sway. What wonderful progress this was, to see his sister finally earning herself some sorry excuse for a backbone!

She claimed to complain to their mother and the leader, and Attila's only reaction was to throw his head back and let out a hearty laugh. Still she screamed and cried at him, as if little Noir was actually capable of actual hate! She didn't know what she was even talking about! And so Attila Aston laughed on, one hand tight around the doll's stuffed throat, the other planted on his hip. She would never prove out to be anything without him, without his brotherly love and efforts to build her up! What kind of man would want to lay with a baby and her stupid doll! Someday she would thank him, and he would nod his head and agree, yes, he was a wonderful brother, he shouldn't have been so kind. Yes, there would be no way she could repay him, well, since they were siblings.

"Ohhh, baby Noir's throwing a hissy fit," he hissed through a toothy, wicked grin. Iced eyes blazed, struck with inspiration and life; he felt empowered, masculine, alive! "What's momma gonna do, huh? Dawali and momma gonna come to your rescue, Noir? Can't you fight your own battles?" He wagged the doll in the air. "Come on, Noir, hit me. I dare you. Come hit your rude, evil brother! Toefur's crying, can't you hear him? He might not be here when mommy dearest comes to your rescue, sister!" And again, he broke into cracked laughter. It was hilarious!