Word Count:: 383 derp

Eris had spoken some with her dark-hued companion, mostly idle chat—even through that, some of the things he referenced were rather interesting, in the very same way that Sepirah had been interesting. They hadn't yet swapped stories of their homelands, but nonetheless, references to both deserts, a world apart from one another, had filtered down into their conversation, and thus, Eris found herself with a genuine interest in the young canine. She did not know Samael; she did not remember him, but she liked his children, and she wondered what he was like, and where he was—why hadn't Kaena spoken any of him? Then again, Kaena hadn't shared much with her since the sable-shaded canine had returned.

Enkiel noticed the approach long before Eris, and she shot him a sidelong look, slitted chartreuse eyes studying his large ears. He was fully grown, she knew, but he resembled a child and was much younger than him; even so, his ears were absurdly large, even by coyote standards. He spoke of being a jackal, and as Eris had no idea what this was or what it entailed, she assumed it was a trait that came along with being a jackal. Not long after he announced the stranger's imminent arrival, Eris's ears too picked up the noise of confident footfalls, assured and certainly belonging to one who was Infernian. The wind was not to their favor, so it was not until Gabriel was within sight that Eris recognized him. As the man approached, Enkiel moved to show his respect, which earned a moment of surprised hesitation from the Equites, who regarded this for a moment before following suit, ducking her own head. Maybe she would learn manners yet, or perhaps she was simply putting on a show.

“I guess you could call it that,” she responded, sounding far more uncertain than she could have caustic. The sable-shaded woman did not know if this was training; if it was, did it qualify as making herself useful? She did not quite yearn for acceptance, but there was something alluring in it, surely—as unstable as Eris was, she often flailed between two polar opposites, wanting to completely alienate herself from family in one moment and desiring nothing more than their acceptance and love in the next.

The sable-shaded woman did not know what to make of her older brother. She could vaguely remember his presence in her youth, but she could recall nothing specific about him, and she did not remember any particular attentions lavished toward her or her siblings. Now, he was the leader of this clan, unreachable and distant as her mother. Unlike her mother, however, Gabriel did not seem to actively desire to cut himself off from her; he did not avoid her purposefully as it would seem Kaena did at times (though Eris had no idea of either her mother or brother's recent injuries and how they had both needed time to heal). He had shown her kindness, too—her mother hadn't given a goddamn inch (of course, Eris was conveniently forgetting that she had even been readmitted to the clan in the first place).

Enkiel answered more directly than Eris, informing Gabriel what they were doing. The yellow-green eyes of the Equites shifted from nephew to brother, remaining quiet for the moment. There was harshness in the Aquila's face, and for a moment Eris was petrified he would begin to yell—though she could not logically fathom why—but his face softened again and he spoke, offering what seemed to be a compliment, as well as useful information. The shadow-furred canine had not inspected this forest, and she did not know her half-sister was also interested in these arts. “I hadn't been up that way yet,” the woman admitted. “I will. Thank you.” There was something inherently nervous about Eris when Gabriel was around. The last time they had seen one another, this nervousness had been masked by physical pain, humiliation, and rage.