[/html]It was incredible in many ways that they could sit there together again, sharing words, awkward and strained as they were, after all the things that had happened. Months, years it had been since they had last spoken and shared a meal together -- a longer time than when they had known one another. And for all that time and distance, broken down and made into bricks to build a wall between them, for all the betrayal and things unknown, what pained Cassandra the most when they sat side by side is the feeling that Myrika had changed very little.
She was a protector, as she had always been. The albino did not care about Halo of Inferni, cousin or otherwise, but she thought Myrika would have probably saved her, or tried to, regardless. If Halo had not been a cousin, or if Myrika had not been of Inferni, it would have been the same. And if Myrika had killed, then it had only been for Halo's sake, and not for the blood. In the moment the tawny hybrid was gone from the room, her sister scowled to herself, the uncomfortable veil falling away to frustration and a distant feeling of confusion. Myrika did not belong there, in this place of scary stories. If anyone did, then surely it was Cassandra.
She wanted again to laugh, but composed herself when her sister returned. And it was thankful, perhaps, that the hunger rose quickly, displacing both the anger and the sadness. But her pale eyes landed on the cloak too, dusty grey and smelling of ash. Though her stomach did not understand why, she took the cloak first, reaching out with her good arm to take it and transferring it to her lap before reaching again to take the meat. "Thank you," she said again, feeling foolish and childlike as she did so. "I have... many pockets sewn into the other one; that's all that's special about it. But it will be good to have a new one."
Cassandra striped a piece of meat from the deer expertly and swallowed, careful to catch any drops of blood before they fell on the cloak.
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