[ P ] death mask

Roisin never wanted to return south again. If it weren't for the coming war she wouldn't consider going back there. Her time in the dungeon had only intensified her hatred of the mainlanders and their snake pit of a home. She heard the whispers and suspicious glances directed her way when her journey homeward took her through Inverness to the Jacobite barracks, Freeman's Fortress. "Dè tha an neach-brathaidh a’ dèanamh air ais? Bha mi a 'smaoineachadh gun do thill i gu a maighstirean," (What's the spy doing back? I thought she'd returned to her masters.) one of them hissed to another in gaelic. They either didn't think that she could understand them or didn't care if she overheard. Shooting the gossiping soldiers a glare she marched towards them. "Bha an Ceannard Samaire gad lorg," (Chief Samaire was looking for you.) she lied, pleased when they scattered like panicked rabbits on a wild goose chase for her father who wasn't on duty today. It was easier to get revenge than argue her case. If her own father didn't trust her then how could she expect the rest of the army to have faith in her. What would it take for them to accept her? Would she have to give her life?

Her notched ear twitched at the sound of a familiar voice having a conversation with his fellow soldiers. It was her younger brother, Raith, a boy who'd barely been half the size he was when she'd moved away from Perth and into Freeman's Fortress. She'd heard her father say how much he resembled Kiel and now that he was grown she could see it too. The boy wearing her brother's face like a death mask was more at home in the Jacobite base than she'd been after months of struggling to find her place.

@Raith

Art by curiotea

RAITH SAMAIRE
Temperance is my virtue

The young man wasn’t the biggest socialite but he would try his hardest to gain the favor of his peers, if only to impress the man he looked up to day in and day out. It was a struggle, finding words difficult to articulate, preferring not to hear his own voice and be blessed with silence all around him but he would try to keep tempo with the soldiers that wanted his attention, guiding them as best he could when he was the one that needed it more than him. His father’s name the greatest reason for any respect he garnered but he wished it was from his own paws that they gave him the time of day and not who he was born of. Samaire was a name of pride to him but he wanted his own name to mean something far more.

His head would tilt ever so slightly as an older veteran would yammer their ears off, feeding them with tactics that were underhanded but appreciated by some, not so much by others. Had he not been focused, he might have rolled his eyes at the mention of biting a Mainlander in the balls once, finding that far from humorous himself.

Flame would drift from the greying face of the veteran as he felt a pair of eyes on him then heard a few whispers as attention would shift to someone not within the immediate group. There his gaze would fall on his sister, Roisin, a woman cloaked much like their father and he caught one gossiping about her to another making a growl slowly bubble but he’d bite back from letting it rumble. Instead, he would grant them a harsh glare that would shut most of them up and take it as a silent dismissal; the conversation was over.

Taking in a steady breath, he’d watch her for a few moments in disbelief she was here, waiting to see if she’d come to him first rather than stalking forward to impede on her personal bubble. He didn’t know her really at all, her face just a ghost memory from his youth and he wasn’t sure the best course of action to approach her, making him look away from her altogether to watch the backs of those that had left due to his silent dare for them to continue speaking trash. "Piuthar?" (Sister?) The greeting was far more of a question as he returned his focus onto her, shifting his body with his head so his entirety was aimed her way, but he still wouldn’t close the space between them.

code by claerie

One look at Raith's face, only a yearling and already so much larger than her, brought her back to the little sister she'd been chasing after her older brother. They both shared the same strong features, except his eyes did not hold the same gentle and teasing warmth that Kiel's did. They were the cold eyes of a stranger. She looked away, feeling her heart throb with pain the more similarities and differences that she noticed. He was like Kiel and he wasn't at the same time. It angered and confused her that she wanted to see more of Kiel in him. It disgusted her that her mind wanted to use him like some sort of substitute for the brother she'd never stopped grieving. Piuthar? he addressed her, lingering in the distance and awaiting her attention. Why did he sound so surprised? Did he think she wasn't going to return? Maybe he'd hoped she wouldn't. It wouldn't surprise her to discover that her father's distaste for her had rubbed off on Raith. "Raith," she finally addressed him, her brother with a borrowed name and face. "Tha e coltach gun do rinn thu thu fhèin aig an taigh an seo," (You seem to have made yourself at home here.) she remarked, unable to hide the envy in her hard blood red gaze. Feumaidh e a bhith math a bhith cho mòr-chòrdte," (It must be nice to be so popular.)

Her words were cold and unfair, but all she could see was someone who had everything she wanted and jealousy swelled within her. This imposter with Kiel's face, her father's favoured child and most likely successor to the Samaire Clan. What had he done to deserve such rewards? She had suffered for years in the mainlands for the sake of her family and in return all she got was hatred and distrust.

@Raith

Art by curiotea

RAITH SAMAIRE
Temperance is my virtue

His name upon her tongue would ease him some, her ears twitching as he went to take a step forward, attempting to go into her space until the words that followed put up a wall between them. Eyes would narrow just a touch, her matching blood moons returning to her in a male’s skull, a silent frustration blaring as he drank in her appearance. There was no denying she looked like father, far less decorated than he and their mother were in more timber like patterning that made most the rest of the family seem so bland by comparison with their more solid splatters. It did nothing to stop his heart from burning his ears at the statement, brows scrunching just a pinch as he recalled Blythe’s hostility not long ago. He wondered if she felt the same way as that barbaric lunatic that kept calling him Kiel when he had ascended back toward home from the fae sanctuary better known as the Standing Stones.

They had answered his blessing for Roisin’s safe return to them, but it seemed she wasn’t so keen on his presence, and it kept his paws rooted, retaining a distance he had no desire to keep. Mother had seemed so torn up over this woman before him, seemed to want her back so dearly but as he looked at her it almost seemed like she didn’t want to be here at all.

Used to being Searla’s voice of reason and her brash personality, he’d decide to ignore the retorts. Though he respected his elders more he couldn’t respect them if they were being a harsh jerk. Only his parents could get away with that for they brought him into this world, and he knew they could both take him out in a heartbeat. She was probably traumatized too from what he was told had happened to her and perhaps that was the biggest thing keeping his temper at bay, best known for his temperance around the camp but equally his stubborn mentality. An amalgamation of both that he looked up to.

Without any warning in his actions, he would drape his head over her shoulders, tilting his head in an attempt to draw her into his chest, if she didn’t stop him in some way. “Tá áthas orm go bhfuil cuma iomlán ort, Róisín,”(I’m glad you look whole, Roisin.) his voice was cool but deep. He expected a backlash just as that woman had. Both were basically strangers but this one shared his blood. Family mattered and though she wasn’t readily accepted by all, he tried to follow his mother’s footsteps in terms of welcoming her back with open arms even at the risk of their father seeing it.

There was an itch in the back of his mind that wondered if the rumors were true, that she was a spy but the world and fae around him had not given any signs she was a threat. Unless that little fae trapped in the web was one, though had he not saved it without being stung? Was he meant to do the same with her, save her from the spider that was his father's suspicions tainting her name?

He wishes he had the answers. Please whisper on the winds dear fae.

code by claerie

The eldest Samaire daughter looked up at her much larger, younger brother with hesitation and confusion. Roisin did not trust his affectionate words to be anything more than a fleeting moment of pity. They were kin, but they were strangers. Everytime she looked at him she saw someone she once loved and grief crushed her heart into a messy pulp. It wasn't only his face that disturbed her. Raith was the golden child, the one who held their father's favour and she burned with jealousy so hot that it was feverish. "Na bean rium!" (Don't touch me!) she yelped, backing away and bristling like an angry hedgehog. She didn't want him to be kind to her. If he treated her like Kiel did she knew it would break her.

She couldn't be the big sister that their mother would want her to be when it felt like she had no place in the family. "Dìreach fuirich ann. Na tig nas fhaisge," (Just stay there. Don't come any closer.) she warned him, unable to stop her voice from shaking.

Her crimson gaze was pained as she looked upon him, trying to shed the image of Kiel from his face and see the yearling beneath. She couldn't deny that the embrace he had offered had brought a long forgotten warmth to heart which was why she had panicked. She was afraid that by accepting him she was betraying her big brother and all the memories they shared together. Their father wanted him to be his chosen heir and Kiel's replacement, but she would not forget him so easily.


@Raith

Art by curiotea

RAITH SAMAIRE
Temperance is my virtue

It seemed he was right to anticipate a solid rejection of his warmth he freely gave others, especially those of family ties but this one specifically felt like deja vu until the words themselves settled into his head. He did not chase after her as she recoiled, his gaze widening as he stood there frozen, looking at her while he processed it all. This wasn’t quite the reaction he expected, having thought maybe it would be as Blythe and his mother had made him clearly aware of but the words didn’t match quite right. She knew his name, she had already spoken it openly, she knew he wasn’t Kiel. There was no blundering of a mad woman that couldn’t separate the two apart as his ears pinned along the top of his head, slowly working out a puzzle in his mind as his fur started to stand on end with a surfacing rage.

That rage wasn’t for her.

Those blood hues would become a rampaging fire as his tail thrashed. The way she trembled making it boil to a snapping point. "Ar leag siad lámh ort?"(Did they touch you?) his voice seethed at the very idea that played in his head that her reaction met that of a sexual assault victim. If that was the case, he definitely felt bad for pushing a boundary he didn’t know she had as his gaze and demeanor softened, realizing his visual anger shouldn’t be placed on her. He didn’t want to scare her more as he smoothed his coat and relaxed his hackles to seem less frightening.

Taking in a breath, he would not move closer to her, but he would try to make himself smaller without seeming demeaning by laying down, keeping his head low and posture gentle. "Cén scum Mainlander ní mór dom a cháineadh chun tú a bhraitheann sábháilte arís?"(Which Mainlander scum must I condemn for you to feel safe again?) he couldn’t keep that growl out of his voice, raspy and angry. His mother had told him they couldn’t save her without dire repercussions, but she was in their possession again and he was more than willing to make things right for their family. Willing to go to lengths it seemed his parents were too scared to go to. He would bring down the moon for them if he had to.

code by claerie

There was a kindness coming from him that she hadn’t expected. Roisin had always been distant with the two pups when they were younger. She’d avoided spending too much time around them because they reminded her of all her failures and she couldn’t bear to listen to their father praise them as he looked down upon her. Her attempts to win him over by enlisting in the Jacobian Army had only embarrassed him and made her the subject of ridicule and rumours. None of that seemed to matter to Raith who greeted her openly and treated her affectionately like a loving younger brother. Her rejection of him provoked another unexpected reaction. Rage on her behalf. She blinked at him, stunned into silence before she finally understood why he was so angry. ”Dè? Chan eil” (What? No.) she answered, shaking her head furiously.

The more she interacted with him the more she could see the protective wall she built around herself crumbling and the more it trembled the more she panicked. ”Tha gràin agam air seo. Stad a bhith cho snog rium,” (I hate this. Stop being so nice to me.) she tried to sound angry, but misery overwhelmed her tone and made her voice shake. ”Ma nì thu mar sin bidh e duilich gun a bhith ga fhaicinn,” (If you act like that it makes it hard not to see him) she admitted, covering her eyes with a forepaw so that she could only hear Raith and not see Kiel in front of her. It was also to hide the pain in her eyes. She was trying so hard to see beyond the resemblance and treat him with indifference instead of love. Love that she couldn't be sure was meant for someone else.

@Raith

Art by curiotea

RAITH SAMAIRE
Temperance is my virtue

Her silence was making his fur want to stand on end all over again but he would try to calm the beast that dwelled within and return to being at peace with himself. His brow would crease just a little, hardly noticeable but he could feel it pinch as she denied the allegations he had posed. There was some doubt that clung to him, finding it hard to believe she was treated at all fairly in any way that wouldn’t make her wish to seek revenge on her captors. Maybe there was some gumption to those rumors then, maybe they had treated her well and she was in fact returning the favor by gathering intel. Taking in a breath, he shook his head, expelling the nonsense out of it on a physical level. He didn’t want to think poorly of her. He didn’t want to believe the lies others spread or follow his father on this matter.

He had to be stronger than the words of others and believe where the fae guided him, following their guide like he always did when they painted him a picture. Be their voice. Be the reason between everything that happened around him. It was easier that way than chasing everyone's expectations for what he should be. Who he should be.

Ears would flatten as one of his fears would happen would be voiced by her. That anger and softness was replaced by something more forlorn and detached as Kiel once again was brought to the forefront, leaving him standing there in silence at her display. The fur along his nape pricked, his tail laying limp as he glossed over the way her paw hid him from her view, the way she just seemed overall miserable. It was a dramatic version of the reaction he had known since he was small, that pain all of them wore when they looked at him. Only Searla seemed to not wield it against him but that’s because she was too young to remember someone they never met. He wanted her now, to ease this all with her vigor. That just might make it worse.

"Más mian leat a bheith yelled ag, ar a dtugtar fealltóir, Níl mé an ceann is mian leat. Tá tú fola, ní bheidh mé shun tú díreach mar a dhéanann daoine eile,"(If you want to be yelled at, called a traitor, I’m not the one you want. You are blood, I won’t shun you just because others do,) he countered, willing enough to argue and not give her what she wanted by in a way giving her what she wanted. It felt very backwards.

He wasn’t Kiel. His voice didn’t come forth on that front. For all he knew that could very well be a lie, he could be a reincarnation of him for all he knew. He was called an old soul by some. He wanted to believe that in some way, be a second chance to make the family not have to feel loss anymore but it never seemed to be the case. "Tá brón orm... Chinn an Fae gach duine agaibh a chéasadh le mo bheith ann. B'fhéidir gur cheart dom m'aghaidh a scanrú, mar sin ní chuireann sé pian ort a thuilleadh,"(I’m sorry…the fae decided to torture all of you with my existence. Perhaps I should scar my face, so it doesn’t pain you any longer,) he said in monotone, stripping the emotion from his voice as he pivoted.

If she didn’t want to look at him, he wouldn’t force her as he started to walk away with a limp from moving wrong on his bad side, but it was a pain he was used to and soon he would be walking on it fine again.

-exit raith unless stopped-

code by claerie

The heat of frustration pumped hot through her body when Raith refused to treat her with love instead of hatred. His kindness was a cruelty that was torturing her with guilt. Someone who loved her was there just as she'd wished for all those years seperated from her family. Her mother wasn't the only one who wanted her around, but why did it feel like needles pricking her heart and not the secure warmth she expected. Her eyes squeezed shut and she took in a breath, lowering her forepaw and squinting slightly against the brightness of the sun. She saw him turn away and her heart squeezed with another pang of guilt when he apologised for merely existing. It reminded her of how miserable she felt at times and she could no longer feel resentment towards him because of that.

"Fuirich! Tha mi duilich, Raith. Chan e do choire a th’ ann. Is leamsa e. Tha mo cheann uile sgìth agus chan fheum mi ach beagan ùine airson a bhith ag obair air,"(Wait! I'm sorry, Raith. It's not your fault. It's mine. My head's all messed up and I just need a little time to work on it.) she apologised, hoping her words would reach him. "Na dèan cron ort fhèin. Cha b' urrainn dhomh mathanas a thoirt dhomh fhìn ma rinn thu sin," (Don't hurt yourself. I couldn't forgive myself if you did.) she pleaded, taking a few hesitant steps towards him. She knew she had hurt him by mentioning Kiel and she hated herself for that. She was still affected by her grief, but he didn't deserve to be punished for that.

@Raith

Art by curiotea

RAITH SAMAIRE
Temperance is my virtue

Just as he was in the process of slinking off, it would seem the other would finally act civil to some extent, feeling his paws yield instinctually against her plea for him to wait. With how the interaction had been so far, he didn’t expect much but more turbulence between them that he understood as much as he didn’t want to. He wished he was ignorant and still in that child’s mind of just thinking it normal for that gloom to overtake everyone around him, afterall his name meant spector simply by putting one letter before it. To be a living, breathing apparition hardly made him one, he wasn’t dead, he had a physical body. He was here. He was present for all to hold dear if they so chose but there was always that gripping loneliness he felt every time he met another’s eyes. In that case, he wouldn’t look, for both their sakes as he kept his head away from her and his back to her, lowering his crown a little as his ear tipped back to listen.

The apology, though not be verbally accepted, would not be ignored as he very slightly acknowledged it with a delicate sway of his tail and a faint nod. His reason to stop him sounded rather selfish, her own guilt sounding to be all that mattered to her and not him. Instead of dwelling on it, he would take in another breath to allow the fog to uncloud his mind, thinking clearly rather than letting the more mischievous imps play with his thoughts. "Cad é mar a bhí sé? Kiel..."(What was he like? Kiel…) he asked with a melancholy note, taking a seat those few feet away from her and allowing her to advance at her own pace should she choose to.

"An é sin pian a iompraíonn gach duine ó áit admiration nó ... Ciallaíonn mé, an bhfuil sé grá a bhraitheann tú nuair a fhéachann tú ar dom? Nó fuath?"(Is that pain everyone carries from a place of admiration or… I mean, is it love you feel when you look at me? Or hate?) his voice grew quieter, not wanting to call someone he didn’t know a monster. He had found no comfort in the thought to ask their mother and so he hadn’t. Roisin was a clean slate, one who’s views would likely differ from a parent. He felt like a sibling's view was far more genuine than someone blinded by a paternal love that could forgive far more transgressions. Hopefully, he hadn’t flown too close to the sun in asking that but he wanted to know his face was one to love and not hate.

code by claerie