Oh bother

[Perrine Villiers]

She knew he was there. Somewhere. The where was what worried Perrine. He was often there, in the temple. Promoted by Citrine to the temple’s raider captain. He had a right to be there. But the where... the where worried Perrine. She’d neglected to mention she would be going. Forgetting that her brother might even look for her until she was gone. And then it was too late. Perri was sure if she had sent word from Thure he would have shown up to drag her home before she was ready.

Now they were both home, and Perrine could feel the stain of his psychic scent on the walls. Chasing her down hallways and sneaking up on her from around corners. Flapping her last patient out of the sick room, Perrine ducked out behind them and closed the door, slipping the do not disturb sign over the handle as a ruse. Not a very good one, but it was all Perrine could think of in the moment as she fled.

She took the long way out of the temple. If she went to her rooms he would be sure to find her. The dinning room, kitchens and other common areas just as likely. Citrine was not to be bothered by sibling squabbles either, so the safest bet was to head out the temple. Maybe do some shopping, or flirting, while she was hiding in the village. That thought cheered her some. Glancing behind her, Perrine swirled around the corner and smack into a wall.

Or a brother.

”Michael!” She tried to turn her surprise into joy, fingertips checking her nose as she stepped back. She tilted her face up toward his and smiled behind her palm, hand dropping and hiding behind her back with its mate. ”Boo!” Bother! Fingers wiggling, Perrine prepared a calming spell. Habit forming the craft every time he got very close. Not always needed, but always handy when her brother was around.

”Well. What are you doing back this way? Strange place for a meeting, surely.”

@kayndred

[Michael Villiers]

She had gone, vanished from the island without so much as a word, a note. He'd turned up at the temple one day to find her absent, patients handed off to other healers, room empty. Away, was all he could get, received a letter, then left. It had made him boil, storm angry, hot and half worried. He would have put a fresh tracking spell on her, at least, if she had come to him, had told him of her departure.

But she hadn't, and Michael had been left behind to hope that the sea hadn't taken her, that he would know, somehow, if she were hurt.

He took to stalking the halls of the temple intermittently, frequently enough that he knew the other healers prickled with annoyance but not enough to be addressed. Long nights were spent outside, pacing, hunting, pulling hard to keep the anger hot. He'd lost track of the number of animals he'd dropped at his own doorstep for his bride, unwilling to come inside and face her sparking edges when his own rage pushed him to tear across the island and beyond. He couldn't bare to be within the walls of his home alone, never mind so close to the bared-teeth of someone who didn't yet know the rules of his fury.

There wasn't any excuse for Perrine, though.

He'd found himself winding around less populated parts of the temple, absently searching for some fresh strain of her psychic scent. She should have returned by now. Travel time between the islands wasn't so difficult as to cause her to be gone longer than this.

The scent picked up abruptly, tugging Michael along by a hook in his chest, and he started taking corners faster and faster until --

"Michael!"

Relief and anger spike in tandem, and he was looking her over for obvious signs of physical distress before he'd really registered the rest of what she was saying. He couldn't sense anything, but that didn't mean that nothing had happened.

Then her words made it past the cloud around his brain. "A strange -- Perri." Michael said, jaw working. He fought to fix a smile in place, knowing that it would come off as more than a little deranged and not quite caring. It was that, or growling and physically removing her from the temple so that he could keep her within his line of sight for the next week.

"No more strange than one's sister vanishing without a word, I'd think. But who can say?" He asked through gritted teeth.

[Perrine Villiers]

Perrine did her best to keep on smiling, fingers squeezing each other tight while he looked her over. Once she’d been taller than him. She was the elder sibling, and had grown quick in the way of girls. Right until he’d shot past her. Nearly a head taller and twice as broad. It made it much harder to boss him.

”Yes?” She chirped, as if her name was a question. Grinning as his face worked itself into something like a smile. No one else would have recognized it for one, Perri was sure. But she knew. It was neither a charming or comforting smile, but it was one she was used to seeing when she’d stepped out of line. Or line if sight.

”I don’t know. You’d have to ask someone with a vanishing sister.” She teased him, her expression never changing. Perrine took pity on him, though. Poor Michael. Fingers working over his knuckles and up his arm, pulse checked at the wrist as they went. Calming spell wiggling at their tips. She hugged his arm, cheek resting against him.

”I’m sorry. I rushed off quick as I could get Lady Belrose’s permission.” Perrine looked up at him, eyes wide with apology. Plus she looked utterly innocent that way. It had been flawless when she’d been a girl. Being a woman made everything more difficult though. So many expectations! And she wasn’t half as cute as she had been.

”My friend’s brother was part of that lost raider band,” she explained, but she had to explain. Perrine knew there would be no escaping without one. And maybe a little groveling. ”We’re both of us fond of our brothers. I had to go.” Perrine never thought of losing hers. She expected Michael to return every time. And he’d never let her down.

[Michael Villiers]

One day, Michael would bite clean through his own cheek in an attempt to remain civil. There was little doubt in his mind that it would be because of Perri and her flights of whimsy.

He allowed her touch, her fingers, soothing even without the edge of the calming spell dancing against his skin. It was easy to press into that hold, to loom and lean in one motion, fighting the temptation to pick her up and break out into the jungle, away from wandering eyes. He wanted to hold her close and keep her at his side until the ache went away.

Instead, he lifted a hand to her jaw, thumb brushing her cheek. "I could give less than a shit about Lady Belrose," he says glibly, smile turning saccharine and edged. "and I would have, if she hadn't been the only one to know where you had gone." It was a shame that Perri seemed intent to only use her charm when she'd already made him cross. He breathed her in, eyes almost closed, letting her reasoning settle.

Michael never had to deal with the fear of a brother lost to raiding, of a sibling tossed into the sea never to return. Not in the same way that Perrine did, that Daphne might. He saw his raid brothers to the end, if he lost them, and he did his best not to. He might not extend the same level of... possessiveness to his raiding parties, but it didn't mean he didn't watch out for them. Strong raiders meant good hauls for the islands, after all, meant an easy time if he didn't have to track pups and hold leashes.

"You could have told me," he growled, the edge of his anger chipping. Perrine was safe, in hand once more, and the irritation at her absence would remain as something to hold over her even as the fire began to bleed out of him. "I would have gone with you. Probably."

[Perrine Villiers]

His weight settled into her hands. Body leaning close. Perrine tucked his arm down the length of her torso and leaned back so he didn’t topple her. The last place Perrine wanted to end up was flat on her ass under Michael. He’d probably sit on her the rest of her life just so he’d know where she was. Tsking gently, she patted his bicep, eyes closing for a moment as he pet her face. She was fine. And he would be fine too once he realized it.

”You shouldn’t say things like that. She’s our High Priestess.” Perrine liked her even. Mostly. Something about Citrine gave the healer the chills, but she was High Priestess for a reason. Maybe it was a lingering Darkness on her. ”Yes well. I do report to her for duty, not you.” She stuck her tongue out from between pursed lips and fluttered her eyelashes. He was a little less riled now, Perrine thought she might be able to get away with a little cheek.

Maybe.

But he was growling again. Perrine’s lips worked sideways, as if she were a blowing a kiss past his shoulder. Squeezing his arm, she fed a little more power into her craftwork and then let go. Slowly, so he had time to adjust his balance. Slowly, because she couldn’t let it look like she was actually letting go, or doing anything resembling running.

”You were busy and I was in rush.” Perrine pouted. She hadn’t actually looked for him, but Perrine could never admit that, not if she wanted another peaceful day in her life. The very idea of him maybe coming along was just what she’d been trying to avoid. She would have ended up sharing that inn room, with its seaside balcony and big bed, with him instead of Miel. Ah. Sweet Miel! Not wanting to be in trouble anymore, Perrine fussed at his shirt and tried to find a way out from it.

Inspiration crept up her spine and stained her soul black.

”Besides, I left word at your house with Keavy.” Perrine lied, eyes on Michael’s chest instead of his face. All this time and they still hadn’t settled. Perrine didn’t trust her. There was something far darker and more disturbing about her brother’s warbride than Lady Belrose. Something Perrine couldn’t even begin to name. Let her be in trouble for once.

[Michael Villiers]

She's your High Priestess he thought mockingly, fighting not to roll his eyes. He let Perri arrange him, comforted by the minimal change in their proximity. Even the feeling of her Craft, sometimes pushy, sometimes unwanted, was something to anchor him. Comforting, calming besides its nature. Perrine never stopped sistering, and Michael was reassured by that as much as the feel of her at his side.

"She's not my sister." He grouched, frowning. He was thankful for his promotion, to be sure, and that had been gifted by Lady Belrose's hand, but it wasn't as though he would have done worse on raids if he hadn't been elevated. Status would not affect performance. "And perhaps you should." That was a pleasing thought. Perhaps he could present it to Lady Belrose, politely of course, that the island would be better for him knowing when his sister decided to abscond into the waves.

"Busy!" He gasped, appalled. "When have I ever been too busy for you? Stop now, lying does not become you." What a fucking ridiculous idea, busy. Clearly his sister's associates needed to be better vetted if the level of intelligence they cultivated allowed her to think such things. He let her fuss with his shirt, chewing over which heads might have to roll to avoid a similar situation in the future. And then --

Keavy.

Keavy?

Michael narrowed his eyes at the crown of her head, one brow ticking slowly up. "Really? And what did my lovely knifeblade of a bride say when you appeared at our doorstep?"

[Perrine Villiers]

”No she’s not.” Perrine agreed, tongue at back of her teeth. ”You’ve only the two, luckily enough.” And Daphne was at home with their parents. Probably being a good girl. At least he let her creep free. Perrine didn’t mind, mostly, clinging to her brother. His solidity was a comfort. If she clutch at him, he was still alive. She just chafed when he clutched back.

Like now. Wanting to take her words and shred them into little pieces for the ideas it gave him.

”I think it is all situated very well, since we both work for the temple and you don’t out rank me.” It would be the worst! Perrine could imagine it, stuffed in a box for him to carry about. She’d never have a moment peace of privacy. And it was unfair! Perrine would put marks on his being unhappy if she did the same, plus he could just lock her out with his Green! It made Perri pluck his button in annoyance.

”It never said you were, now!” Perrine worked her hands over his shoulders and patted his chest comfortingly. He’d probably put off a raid if she asked, but Perrine would have been denied her leave or followed on it. ”I am not a liar!” She gasped, hurt. She turned big brown eyes up at him in reproach. Perrine wanted to stop her feet and beat his chest at the unfairness of it all. She shouldn’t feel guilty for having gone! She was a grown damn woman!

But she did. So she pouted and fussed and did lie. Brow crinkling as she rolled her eyes. Lovely knifeblade! Keavy wasn’t evena bride anymore! She was just a wife, now. Long in the tooth and, and Perrine still didn’t trust her. Michael had been far to young for women picking when he’d brought her home, Perrine was sure.

”Not much. I think she mostly growled, you know she doesn’t like me.” Perrine whined, forehead falling against her brother’s chest as if this were the greatest pain she’d ever had to bear. ”I didn’t even go inside.” Perrine never went inside. Her brother’s house was not a place she felt welcome or comfortable, which was not something she’d ever imagined happening.

Two whole thirds of his life severed from her. Perrine sighed. It was all really unfair.

”Can we talk about something else now?” She begged. Anything but scoldings or that horrible wife of his.

[Michael Villiers]

"Mm, thankfully." Michael tutted, twitching at the idea of one more person who he couldn't keep tethered to his house. At least Daphne was easy to track down if he got a wild itch about keeping tabs on the rest of his family, but they were all in one place, at least.

Michael arched a brow down at her, the idea of addressing his sister's comings and goings with the High Priestess still warming his thoughts. "I'm sure rank will play little part in allowing for me to be informed about your leaving. It is a matter of island security, after all." Never let it be said that he could not be master of his words enough to pitch a convincing argument, that he didn't know when the skinning knife would do against the hammer.

He scoffed. "Of course I am not too busy now, I am here." Inspiration! A grin spread across his face so quickly it felt a flash. "In fact maybe I could take up residence in the temple! Surely that could be negotiated with Lady Belrose." It would not, of course, and Michael well knew. But it was something that should inspire some type of wariness in his sister, that he might potentially take up residence, even partially, at her place of work.

That did sound like his Keavy, as full of teeth and spite as one of the deep sea fish. Michael would put Marks against her telling him, though, simply because it was a guarantee that he would take off from the island for however long it took to retrieve Perri. A trip he would have pushed at speed so that he could return to his home more quickly, to assure himself of her status as well.

Something else? Michael scoffed, slinging one arm around her shoulders to keep her in place for at least a moment. "Fine," he says, exasperation rolling off of him in waves. He thinks of bucking the calm, of feeding into the rage that had kept him up and active night after night. But even the idea feels boring, tiresome, and the fire simmers too low to warrant feeding. "I'll allow it. What does my wayfaring sister wish to speak of, if not of the torment she brings upon her poor brother."

[Perrine Villiers]

Perrine wanted to scream. Or maybe pinch his ear. Most people did not realize how tender the lobe could be. Oh, they knew how it tingled when sucked, or throbbed when bit, but just the right sort of pinching could be knee dropping. Instead she huffed. Too much a healer to be that cruel of an older sister.

”My taking a quick trip is hardly a security risk.” Perrine complained, one eyebrow scolding him as it creased her brow. He was much too stubborn, and even if he did not share her room anymore, he was still very present in it. Perrine doubted he would ever be completely washed from the walls and sheets. A subtly reminder to anyone who entered that there was a brother watching. Even if he was a realm away.

It made Perrine wary of bringing people into it. Just as his grin now made her nervous.

”Michael no! You are a married man now.” The only advantage to the bride he had brought home. Perrine would have taken him back in an instant if it meant Keavy gone again. ”There is not room for married couples in the temple.” Especially if there were children. The idea made her cold. She’d have to douse him with a brew or five while she had the chance. With the tiniest of shivers, Perrine tucked herself against his side and was, moments later, pinned there by his arm.

”Please. You didn’t even know I was gone until I was back.” Or practically back. She hoped it hadn’t been long, anyway. The more time he’d had to worry, the longer he was likely to fuss or linger, or so Perrine assumed. She took his willingness to change the subject as a hopeful sign that he was done tormenting her. She was back safe and sound and quite literally under his thumb.

”You could tell me about your raid and the treasures you brought back.” She offered. Perrine did not like the gorier details, but she liked hearing about the world away and all its strangeness. ”And if you have any hurts that need tending. You know if you don’t say and I find some I’ll use the stinky, burning salve instead of the nice one.” She threatened, teasing him with a probe.

Perrine preferred to be the one to heal his hurts. Usually they were small ones that could keep until he got home. Anything worse needed to be treated immediately, and Perrine didn’t really want to know he’d been so badly injured. Cheek to his shoulder, Perrine slung her arm across his lower back, sure her brother was too damn stubborn to not come home.

[Michael Villiers]

Giving in to a bone deep need, Michael held closer, cheek tilted against Perrine's head, flashes of his anxiety resurfacing. She had been, still was, such a stalwart part of his life, a pillar of consistency. At the same time, Michael had put on height, muscle. Had grown past her, taken the roll of protector and shield and sword against that would hurt her. But a weapon was useless without a hand to wield it, without a purpose to drive it, and Michael knew himself well enough to know that should Perrine's whereabouts have been unknown, her delay longer, he would have torn a path across the islands and beyond to find her.

That anxiety fought off the calming spells, the temperance of her presence, tightened the muscles in his back and made his jaw ache for clenching. "It's a security risk for you," he said, breathing deep through his nose. Here, safe, whole, he chanted mentally, because she was. Rage was only productive with a direction, even if that direction was everywhere, and pointless when the person who he had been worrying over was literally at his side.

"I'm sure Keavy would be more than happy to claim the house in my name while I take a sabbatical at the temple." But her comment brought him back from the beginning of the anxiety-rage-activity spiral that lurked at the edges of his mind, and he knew he sounded less convinced of the idea than he'd like. he pressed an absent kiss to her hair, lips folding into a frown almost immediately. "I'm quite sure your fellow healers and my wife would claim the exact opposite." It was quite easy to make a menace of oneself, after all, and Michael had more than enough practice at nuisance-ing.

The raid. Right, that had happened, hadn't it? He'd just about forgotten it when he'd come home to find his sister a very conspicuous absence on the island.

"It went well. Lots of food, this time, and textiles. Things to last." They'd be making more such supply runs as summer closed its doors on them, aware that the lands they pillaged would be subject to winter as well and that the harder the winter on the mainland the more their own stores would suffer. He'd have to round of smaller units for quieter operations when the season finally ended. People tended to get desperate in winter, and while it sometimes meant easier pickings it could just as well mean a man drawing a knife when he might have run otherwise.

Her concern pleased him, brought the smile back to his face. "There's no need to bring out your torture implements, sister dearest. Only bruising, this time." He thought. Sometimes he'd get distracted passing through walls and scrape himself and he couldn't honestly remember if he'd banged himself up during the raid or during his nightly sojourns to the jungle.

[Perrine Villiers]

He was a comfort as much as a nuisance. Holding her too tight and kissing her head like she was a babe. Perrine didn’t mind. She even enjoyed it when he wasn’t stifling her with his need to protect her. To rule her like a child, or keep her like a possession. All her best childhood memories involved him.

”I wasn’t in any danger, Michael, really. I just went to Thure.” She gave him a few more pets and some more calming spell. ”You leave Paon all the time.” On dangerous raids. Surely her running off to Thure for a week was nothing compared to that. Never mind the differences in their purpose. Michael raised from birth to be a killer of men. Perrine, as a woman of Paon, destined to never leave its shores for another.

She couldn’t even imagine it. What would she do beyond the islands but suffer?

”Oh I bet she would.” Perrine’s face folded in dislike. Keavy did not appreciate her brother, Perrine was sure. But then she was not as sure she wanted Keavy too appreciate him, part of her holding out for him to grow bored of the woman and send her away. There had to be a better choice of wife for him elsewhere. Here on the islands even. ”Hmph. You are too big for the temple now. The doors won’t fit.” Love him as she did, Perrine would never have peace with him so close again.

Chasing him with craft, Perrine tried to draw him away from such thoughts, and the hallway. She needed his mind on other things and other places. Raids and wildness to distract him from punishing her.

”Very clever of you.” She did not think deeply about how these things were acquired. It conflicted with her healer’s heart and caused a disturbance between it and her Paon soul. The people of the mainland did not deserve her pity or her care. Perrine tugged him toward the front of the temple. She knew just the bench for them to sit on. His house was visible from it. It would be easier there to see him closer or set him gone, she thought. Hating that it might mean sending him home to his wife.

”I have no such things and you know it.” Arm behind his back to guide him along, though he always followed where she went. Unless he was dragging her off somewhere. Perrine sat and patted the bench next to here. ”Bruises indeed. Come on, I can sense half a pound of flesh missing.” Just little scrapes, really, but Perrine wouldn’t allow them on her brother. ”I’ll patch you up. Can’t have anyone thinking I don’t take proper care of my baby brother.”

[Michael Villiers]

Just went to Thure, Michael huffed through his nose, ruffling her hair. He didn't attempt to buck the calming spell she washed over him, easing the tension out of his mind with practiced ease. It tickled something in him that her spells worked so well because he'd been her practice patient for years, and just then he couldn't tell if it was a tick of irritation or pride that she knew him so well.

"I have been trained to leave Paon all the time," he pointed out, hold easing on her as the tension washed away. Born to kill and refined against their very own beaches. He would probably never be able to contain the mix of contempt and excitement that raced through his veins ever time a raid was planned, the elation and the rampant hunger when one's feet touched down on a land one wasn't born to. Paon benefited from his willingness to throw himself at other territories and reach out with greedy hands. How could he lay that at his sister's feet in a way she would understand, island-bound as she was?

This knot of consideration kept him distracted until he heard Keavy's name. He didn't have a chance to respond to that before Perri was moving on, making jabs at his size. He gazed up at the arches in mock speculation, mock humming in appreciation of the archetecture. "I'm sure I could commission someone to adjust the building. It's a matter of safety for everyone if a patient can't get in the temple, right?" A chuckle bubbled up out of him, pleased at the idea of someone trying being actually too big to fit through the doors.

He stuck his tongue out at her comment, nudging her with his elbow. "One of us has to keep our wits about them." Letting her move him down the hall, toward the front of the temple, Michael allowed himself to be manhandled. Perrine could be as pushy and demanding as a Prince whens he wanted to be -- Michael was thankful for the muscle he'd put on with age.

It was with great restraint that Michael didn't flop across his sister the moment she sat on the bench. "I'm sure you don't," he mocked, curling to grab the neck of his shirt and tug it over his head. "Just as I'm sure," he popped free, "that anyone who dared take a 'half pound of flesh' would come back as a trophy for my yard."

Michael balled up his shirt and stuffed it aside, turning so that Perri could see the extent of his 'half pound' of scratches. A frown pulled his expression down, and he reached out to brush his thumb against her cheek. "No one would think that." he said, humor fallen away from his voice. "And if they did, they can be put in the yard, too."

[Perrine Villiers]

Perrine shook her head at the arches of the temple. She would not put it past her brother to manage such an impossible feat, even as he dreamed it up. ”Or the healers can simply go to the patient.” She suggested with a laugh, doubting he would be keen on any idea that let her out of her room, much less the temple. Harder to keep track of her that way.

”Is that what you call them?” Laughter bubbled upward as she snatched for his tongue. He was a menace, but she wouldn’t want to do without him. Sadly there was no conquering her overbearing streak. Glad to have him calmer and more forgiving, Perrine moved them out to a courtyard where they could sit together, half afraid for a moment that he meant to sit in her lap rather than next to her. He’d gotten too big to hold comfortably!

”You just accused me of having them.” She snorted, clever fingers working his shirt free when it snagged. She never could understand how he got it off that way at all, or how he hadn’t stretched the collar of every shirt he owned. Then again, maybe he had, but that was for Keavy to worry about, if the bitch even cared. ”Michael! You can’t just stick people in your yard like rose bushes.” The thought was both amusing and appalling.

”Would you really want to look at someone who got the best of your shields every day?” She goaded, craft licking up his skin and she sussed out each wound, half of which she could see now that he’d stripped his shirt off. ”Mother Night, have you been running through the rose bushes, brother?” Perrine sent a wave of healing craft to sort out all the minor cuts and abrasions, distracted by his thumb at her cheek. Perrine blinked, looking up at him.

”Oh hush.” Smiling, she patted his knee and gave his cheek a quick kiss. ”You’re going to run out room in your yard at this rate.” Huffing she went back to her craft, making quick work if his half pound of flesh. She was still certain he’d been rolling around in a bed or brambles. Or running wild through the islands, her crazy brother. She could live another twenty years around him and still not understand warlord princes and their very special brand of lunacy.

”If you’re home for a while, maybe we can have dinner together sometime, just the two of us.” No snarly wives to make the tight with tension.