Donned in the usual ripped denim, black vest, and familiar blue bandana, Silas had set out from Inferni early in the morning before the sun had even a chance to fully rise from behind the horizon. The combat knife his father had given him upon his nine month had been secured to a belt loop with a leather throng, though he was sure he wouldn’t find much use for it on this trip. His excursion would take him past Halifax, but he aimed not to stop and continue until he arrived at the borders of Cour des Miracles. Today was a rather special day and the young hybrid planned to share it with his family, since it had been quite awhile since he had seen them. Anatoliy had come to Inferni’s borders months ago, but it was really the last time Silas had had much contact with the other Russos. It was time now to visit (and he felt slightly guilty that it had taken an occasion such as his birthday to realize this).

When he came to the borders of the mottled pack, Silas called for his father, sister, and brother to meet him. He knew better than to trespass past the scent marked foliage, and so the young Vigiles settled onto the ground to wait. The trek would have no doubt been faster if he had gone unshifted, but Silas had become more accustomed to his Optime form and found that the other two were becoming scarcely used. He took the time to rest his feet, though the excitement and anticipation boiled beneath darkened fur. He wasn’t sure if his family had anything planned for the day, but at the very least Silas figured they could share a meal together. After all, the three siblings had now reached two years of age.

Though it didn’t take long for Silas’ solitude to end, it felt to him as if it had taken ages. Today’s cause for celebration, in particular, made the waiting game seem almost impossible to bear. At the sight of his brother, Silas sprang to his feet with excitement and waited for the brunette to draw closer to the young Vigiles. The familiar twang of Anatoliy’s Russian accent instantly warmed Silas’ chest, and the boy’s grin only broadened. Though concern was apparent on the Russo’s face, Silas almost overlooked it. "No, no, nozhing ees zhe matter, Tol. But somezhing ees happening." He stepped forward, arms radiating outward before they closed in around his brother to pull him into a quick, masculine bear hug. As he drew away, Silas clapped his brother on the shoulder. "Do you realize eet ees our birthday today?"

Pale, icy eyes had been focused on Anatoliy this whole time, though now they broke away to quickly survey the scenery around them. There was still no sign of Rurik or Liliya, but perhaps they hadn’t been so close and were coming from deeper within the pack’s lands. Silas looked back to Anatoliy, wondering if perhaps he knew their whereabouts. "I zhought ve could celebrate, ya?" Little did he know, there was less to celebrate than he thought.

The mere presence of his brother had only heightened his mood, and Silas couldn’t wait for the rest of the family to join in. Once they were all here, they’d be able to have a nice meal together and perhaps catch up on the events that had happened since they had all last spoken. Surely, they all had stories to tell. But the change on his brother’s face made Silas doubt this would be happening. Somehow something was not right here. He waited, studying Anatoliy’s warm eyes intently after that simple Russian word slipped past parted teeth, and didn’t realize he was holding his breath until after those simple words fell – 'Zhey're gone' – and Silas felt the wind rush from his lungs.

"Что? Но ... почему?" They had come here in the first place in search of Rurik’s first sons – Silas’ half-brothers. They had obviously been unsuccessful in their quest, but it seemed as if everyone had settled into their new homes quite easily. Sure, Silas had chosen the coyote clan over Cour des Miracles, but it seemed as if the Russos had gotten on fine without him. After all, they were only miles apart. But now, they were gone? But why? And where? "Vhy vould zhey leave us, Tol?" The tone of his voice had changed significantly, and the young hybrid easily felt a weight settle into his chest he was sure wouldn’t budge for quite awhile. Pale eyes had fallen to the ground now, but in attempt to discover answers as if they might be written across his brother’s forehead, Silas returned his gaze to Anatoliy.

Black ears flattened when Anatoliy revealed he didn’t know why either, but there was a spark of hope and wonder when he said: 'I know vhat zhey told us zhough.' So Rurik and Liliya had spoken to Anatoliy about their departure, but hadn’t felt the need to come and tell Silas in person? Or rather, Anatoliy hadn’t felt the news important to share either? He felt incredibly hurt by this, but did not speak for fear of interrupting his brother. He would hear what he had to say, let him explain, before jumping to further ridiculous conclusions.

Rurik had gone home, and had left notes to them each. This made Silas feel somehow better, but also somehow worse. He felt relieved to know that Tol had not kept news of this event from him, but was also bitterly confused that Rurik would not say anything in person. Had he even hinted at all of his departure? Or had it really just been as sudden as it seemed to be? Silas merely listened as Anatoliy explained, features contorting from a multitude of emotion. He wanted to be angry – oh so very furious. But mostly Silas was just sad – heartbroken. Rurik had wanted to find his first sons, and instead he ended up abandoning his second sons. How was this fair? How was any of this fair? His anger seemed to bubble behind his sadness, but Silas didn’t speak for Anatoliy had begun to talk of Liliya.

The explanation was vague, and Silas took a moment to try and decipher what it was that Anatoliy was telling him. He didn’t understand, but did it really matter? All Silas needed to know was that his sister and father had gone. He took one shaky step forward, before deciding he needed to sit. This was not how the day was supposed to be. They were supposed to be celebrating, not mourning. It didn’t matter that they were situated out here by the borders. Nothing else in the world mattered right now. Silas sunk to the earth with his legs sprawled out in front of him. After taking a few large breaths, he rested an elbow on one thigh, and cradled his head in his hand. "Vhy vould zhey do zhis to us?" He just couldn’t understand any of it. All he could see was the punishment their actions inflicted upon the two brothers.

After a moment, Silas brought his gaze back to find Anatoliy again. Now that he had a moment just to breath and relax, he wanted to know specifics. "Zhey both only left notes for us? Zhey didn’t say zhey were zhinking of such a zhing before? I just don’t see vhy zhey vould leave so suddenly. So," he had to think of the word, "unannounced. Dad vent back to some voman? And Lili... I don’t understand vhy she left." Eyes looked questioning as they sought the warm color of Anatoliy’s, hoping he might explain further. "Do you still have zhe notes zhey left for us?" Maybe if he read them himself, things would become more clear for the abandoned pup.

Onyx locks fell down in a cascading sheet to hide Silas’ face from view, while he dejectedly cradled his head in one palm. Feeling now somewhat sloppy and sad, the young Russian pulled his legs in so that he was sitting almost Indian style, instead of looking like a dropped rag doll. Liliya had wanted to leave after something had happened between her and a boy. What... her first shot of love had gone wrong? This hardly seemed like an excuse to leave. Not everything in life went completely right the first time – he knew from experience. But he supposed that Liliya had always wanted to leave. Their sister never seemed as attached to the area as Silas and seemingly Anatoliy had grown. Of course he missed Russia too, but Silas had begun to create a life for himself here and he just couldn’t picture himself abandoning it. At least, not now. And so, it just made no sense that Liliya and Rurik had gone and done just that.

"Fazher can’t control ‘imself, eet seemz," he mused darkly. He was somewhat surprised that they had another half brother here, but the situation at hand had really blocked out any sense of urgency in discovering the story behind that. For now, he wanted to see the notes.

Pale eyes broke free of the dark halo and followed the gesture of Anatoliy’s hand, seeking out the house he spoke of. "Can ve see?" Had it not been for the fact that Silas was perched on the borders of Cour des Miracles, he would have wandered immediately to the house without permission and without as much as a hesitation. As it was, Silas would need his brother’s escort if he didn’t want to risk causing trouble. And frankly trouble was the last thing he wanted to deal with today. The boy’s spirit was already broke enough. Silas quickly scrambled to his feet, making it clear that he would not take no for an answer. He would see those notes before he left for home today. Somehow he needed them.

Icy eyes caught warm gold of his brother’s and they locked for just the slightest moment, hesitating before breaking away from one another. Somehow, Silas could see the hurt in his sibling’s eyes. He did not fully understand it and assumed it all came from their father and sister’s departure, but he would not understand that this place he was willing Anatoliy to bring him held memories aside from the issue at hand. Silas had the slightest feeling Tol didn’t want to bring him there, but he figured it was just because seeing the notes again would only add salt to their wounds. Still, Silas was eager to follow as Anatoliy turned to lead the way.

Their trek from the borders to the house was completed in silence, but this the young Russian didn’t mind. His thoughts were turning madly in his head and Silas was plenty occupied without having to focus on dialogue. When they reached their destination, there was a turning present in his abdomen. He realized then that he was scared to see what they had wrote, and swallowed the sour taste rising in his mouth.

Eyes barely swept over the rooms or their possessions and instead remained focused on Anatoliy’s back as Silas trailed after him. His brother rummaged through the kitchen, before he turned with the notes held in a hand. At his command, Silas obliged and pulled the scraps of paper away from Anatoliy’s grasp. The briefest investigation of the notes revealed the familiarity of his father and sister’s handwriting, but then icy eyes found Anatoliy again. "Zhanks, Tol," he told him now, before letting his eyes spring away.

He had intended on spending the afternoon with his family to celebrate their second birthday, but now Silas found that he merely want to be alone to read the notes and think about what all of this meant. He wasn’t sure how to tell his brother this without seeming cold. He feared Anatoliy might think he was abandoning him too. "Give me a meenute?" Before waiting for a response, Silas stepped away from the kitchen and wandered back through the house until he was in the outside air again. Once there, the young Russian finally let his gaze study the departing words of his family.

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.

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.

The trek away from the house and to the water that awaited them was made in silence, and yet the young Russian’s mind would not stop turning with thoughts and images that wouldn’t cease to play again and again. After having read the words of his father and sister, the boy couldn’t help but to imagine them leaving – what they were thinking, what they were feeling. It was just so very hard for him to grasp that fact that they were gone, really gone, and that he could no longer easily trek the miles from Inferni to the Cours pack to see them anymore. Now, it was the vast ocean that separated them.

Pale eyes advanced to his brother at the sound of his voice, and Silas merely shrugged in response. The ocean turned angrily ahead of them, as if awaiting the notes the Russian brothers were about to give it. "You can, Tol," Silas responded, his voice barely louder than a murmur. He would have done it together with his brother, but they were already in his hands. Better just to be done with it, Silas figured.

When Anatoliy spoke of their mother, Silas winced. Unlike Tol, Silas had left with Rurik and Liliya and left their mother behind barely after he had become an adult. Anatoliy, on the other hand, had stuck around for awhile before he had happened to end up in Nova Scotia. Silas was sure, now that he experienced the situation, that their mother had felt a similar pain. He did not respond to his brother’s words, but Silas silently offered an apology to their dear Verusha.

Anatoliy moved down the dock further from where Silas was standing. He watched in silence as his brother crumpled the notes in his fist, before letting the papers fall away from his fingers and find the water beneath them. For a moment, the paper floated along the surface like a ghostly ship. But only a mere second later, the water churned and sucked the notes away, drawing them into its depths. Silas closed his eyes for just a moment, and tucked this memory back into his mind. When he opened the pale blue again, he found his brother.

The questions that the fellow Russo asked were valid, but Silas didn’t have an answer anymore than Anatoliy did. He shrugged, shaking his head slowly from side to side so that the black razored hair shifted against the bold blue of his bandana. "I don’t know, Tol. I really don’t know." He couldn’t help feeling abandoned here; as if they had been exiled from Sobirat'sya. He shouldn’t have felt that way, after having lived here so long, but somehow it felt as if he had been forgotten; as if he were no longer part of the family.

Again, the boy shrugged, for he didn’t have a definite answer. His relationship with Halo was somewhat uncertain at the moment, and Silas wasn’t sure where it was going (if anywhere). "Just mine clan," he said simply. He hoped Anatoliy wouldn’t pry him about Halo now, merely because he didn’t have any spectacular news on that front. And frankly, Silas didn’t want to focus on any more negatives today.

"Happy birzhday, my dear Anatoliy," he took a step forward to clap his brother on the shoulder, before deciding to pull him into a bear hug. Though it might have been consider somewhat unmanly to show affection in this way, the physical contact was a reminder that they still had each other.