the_lioness | (no subject)

*there's a delicate hand shaking her shoulder, a soft, familiar voice* Sister --

*Alanna continues mumbling, sighing softly between what can only be unintelligible sentences. She arches her neck, stretching her arms over her head... and in the blink of an eye, Thom is on his back with a dagger at his throat and another poised above his heart. Sneering, Alanna squints at the intruder and growls.*

Who sent you?

*Thom swallows carefully, eyes wide in the darkness.

Sounding a little amused and a little edgy* I think somebody's sleepy.

*The sound of his voice robs her of speech. Shifting her body sideways, she blinks and finally sees what she had not seen before - the intruder's coppery hair illuminated in the faint light. The merciless look in her eye is soon replaced by confusion, hurt and finally fury.

It slides right back into confusion as she realizes she holds a dagger against her twin's throat.

Lurching away from him, she stumbles off the bed and steadies herself against a nearby wall, her face hidden in shadows. It doesn't matter. The accusation in her voice is more than enough.*

You left. With.... with him.

*He pushes himself upright and leans back against the headboard, tilting his head back to rest against the wall.* I looked like I was in great shape to resist to you . . . ?

I came to see you.

I would have fixed it. Somehow. You know that. Goddess, Thom... for all I knew, I watched you die twice.

*She laughs harshly.* But you always did want to be like Roger, didn't you?

*Pacing restlessly, she pauses near the door and flips on the light. Thom already hides enough as it is. He doesn't need darkness to assist him.*

You came to see me? Why? Why now, and not the day after? *She scowls.* You didn't seem particularly concerned at the time. For that matter, how do I even know it's you? What if it's him wearing your face, just as you were similarly disguised that night?

*Thom flinches when the lights go on and throws the back of his hand over his eyes.

He sighs* Are we going to do that thing where I tell you things we both already know just so you'll believe I'm me? I will if you want, but . . .

You... you... *She sputters.* Insufferable ass.

*Nostrils flaring, she stomps over and stares down at him for a moment. Without warning, she jabs him in the side and tickles.*

*He yelps, jerking away from her and falling off the bed with a loud thud.

Indignant* What was that for!

*She smiles thinly.*

A test, without the words and drawn out memories you seem too bored to discuss. *She pauses.* Now I know that it's you. I seriously doubt Lucifer would remember that peculiar pitch of yours when startled.

*Blinking, she stares at him for a moment, doubt evident on her face. Eventually, she offers him a hand.*

Get up.

*Thom seizes her hand and pulls himself up.

Biting his lip, he meets her eyes silently, narrow shoulders set in a tense line.*

*Alanna swallows hard and pulls him forward in a rough hug. A few stray tears escape, but she pays them no notice. Turning her head to the side, she promptly stiffens, her breath caught in her throat.

Thom has marks on his neck. Marks that anyone with half a brain can identify. Drawing back, Alanna tilts his chin up with one finger and lets her eyes roam over him. Scrapes, bruises... other small hurts that he could heal if he wanted to. Instead, he wears them with something like pride. Eyes narrowed, she shoves him back on the bed.*

Cute. So that's the way of it then? Why do you have such a self-destructive streak, Thom? Why? *She circles the bed warily, leaning against a nearby wall and sliding to the ground.*

What happened?

*He lets out a soft cry when she pushes him, turning his head to watch her pace, thin fingers tightening in Alanna's sheets.

Thom doesn't protest any of her accusations, but at last he echoes shakily* 'What happened' -- ?

*trying to meet her eyes, seeking clarification*

Why were you fighting him?

*Alanna says this dully, her forehead resting on her knees. She can't quite bring herself to look at him, instead devoting time to controlling her temper.*

*Shrugs.

Simply* Why not?

Ah, but that does soothe the hurt and the damage caused, to be sure. *She looks up, her face pale and impassive.* I can not even begin to tell you how much better it would have made me feel to know that as he broke my fingers. Thank you.

*Annoyed with her own sharp tongue, she thumps her head against the wall.*

So it was mutual? I don't need to challenge Lucifer over you or anything?

What if someone had seen you? Do you not remember what Bigby said would happen to you if you caused trouble again?

*Thom stares at her, hurt.* You think that's what I wanted.

*The rest isn't important. It never was.*

*She blows a loud, hissing breath out through her teeth. A minute passes before she can answer.*

...no. No, I don't think that's what you wanted, but it wound up being part of the game.

I know you stopped it, Thom. I'm not stupid. *She bites her lip.* For that, I thank you.

I hate being helpless. It's bad enough when I can't save myself, but that's my own problem. I couldn't help you. Don't you see?

*Just like that, the tears are back. Sniffing, she looks away.*

*Maybe it's because she looked away.

Maybe it's for another reason altogether, but she doesn't see him move before his arms are sliding around her and he's whispering quietly in her ear* Don't cry.

Don't cry, Alanna.

I don't . . .

I'm here, and I'm all right, and I'm not going to leave you.

*and, so faintly she may have dreamt it, a ghost of sound* I'm sorry.

*Somewhat mollified, Alanna blinks at him as she slips her arms around his shoulders and buries her face in his throat.

Not crying. Knights don't cry. *She smiles to herself.*

You were here at age sixteen, Thom. You acted stupid. I saw through it, of course, and we talked.

I could have told you everything. Warned you, pleaded with you not to risk everything for Roger... but I couldn't do it. There was no guarantee that it would have made any difference, and I didn't want to lose this time here with you. *Sighing, she looks him in the eye.* Then I wondered if seeing you again at that age was a sign from the Goddess that I should go home for good.

*Hugging him again, she whispers in his ear, keeping her words deliberately vague.*

I'm sorry I couldn't save you.

*Thom stiffens.

He presses closer, holding Alanna more tightly against him, but when he speaks there's something dangerous in his voice* For Roger, huh . . .

*Alanna frowns at something over his shoulder, absently smoothing her hand down his back.*

I meant bringing him back, Thom. I know it wasn't for Roger. The deed itself. There were other ways to accomplish what you wanted done.

*relaxes slightly under her hand, turning his face into her shoulder*

. . . I'm tired, Sister.

I don't want to fight with you now.

I'm tired too. Sleep proves elusive lately. *She gives him a wry smile, brushing hair off his forehead. For him to admit that he doesn't want to fight means she most likely won't get anything out of him tonight.*

Why are you so... pink?

*flushes* Too much sun.

*Alanna quirks an eyebrow.* Sun? I wasn't even aware you knew about "sun." Yet you scoff at my love for the desert. *She smiles.* Where were you?

*sweetly, tousling her hair* The desert.

Don't worry, I haven't brought you home any scars.

*She runs a finger along his collarbone, tracing a scratch.*

There's more than one type of scar, Brother.

*winces a little at the touch* Ah?

Ah. *she nods helpfully.* But you're a smart boy. You know that.

*Alanna looks suddenly mischievous. As Myles the kitten creeps along the edge of the bed and pounces Thom's shoulder, it becomes clear why. She snickers.*

He does that with Peter too. I think it's a sign of affection.

*Thom goes very, very still.* Sister . . .

If this cat throws up on me, I'm going to change my mind about wanting to fight with you.

*It takes a second or two for Alanna to remember the kitten that vomited on Thom's head, but once she does, she dissolves into laughter.*

Goddess, if only you could have seen your face...

*Still laughing, she scoops Myles off his shoulder and stands, gently placing the kitten on a pillow. Myles starts to settle down, but Alanna gets yet another in a long series of bad ideas. She gently shoves Myles off the pillow, lifts it and whacks Thom over the head.*

Mithros, you thrice dammed fool, I was worried sick about you. *Grinning evilly, she swings the pillow around again, lightly whacking his side.*

*Thom squeaks, grabbing at the pillow* Hey, no fair!

No fair? *She growls, tossing him another pillow.* I'm always fair. Prepare to be royally trounced, brother. You deserve it.

*She giggles and whacks him again.*

*That means war.

Thom grabs the pillow and sets to.*