Imagine waking up to find that you are missing your arm. Imagine the loss of a part of you that you require to function each day. Imagine the loss of your value. Imagine how the Enryian people feel when they wake up to find that the abilities they r...
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The Incarnate of Fire's Manor, Razjirr
The tension that hung in the air snapped suddenly beneath the weight of screams and gunfire. The noise was too loud even for the music and chatter that had served as a brief distraction from the fact that the occupants of the room had essentially been closed in with each other against their wishes. For the third time, Caelius slammed a white knuckled fist against black wood, the door rattling on the frame under the force of his blows. Behind him his sister shifted, crossing the threshold with rushed steps as she reached for his free arm, trying to coax him from the door again. He had hardly moved from the location the entire three hours that they had been locked inside, and while she had endeavored to keep their guests calm, he seemed intent on doing the opposite.
"Don't." She stopped as the word slipped between his teeth, his voice dripping with warning. He didn't turn toward her, or even acknowledge her beyond the thinly veiled threat. She could see that his shoulders were rigid as he leaned his weight against his forearm, held up by the door. He never cared much for confined spaces, much less for confined spaces where he was required to be a nanny for a bunch of Incarnate children.
"Caelius, stop it. They won't answer you-" She pleaded, cut off when one of the aforementioned guests spoke up from one of the lounges in the center of the large space. Caelius glowered at the wood in front of his face as the voice reached him, his nerves already frayed and worn.
"Give it up, Laelia." His tone lacked the usual kindness that she'd known of Alexander, the eldest son of the Incarnate of Air. "Let him continue to make a fool of himself. No suave suit or extensive grooming from Daddy could ever cause any of us to forget who he really is." Turning her gaze to him, she swallowed the grimace that threatened to surface at the sight of the rapidly darkening bruise around the slope where his brow met his eye. He'd been the first to try and stop Caelius' escalating temper, though his attempt was void of the typical gentleness that rolled off of Laelia in waves. He'd accepted Caelius' response and had retreated to one of the sprawling, black leather couches that sat in the center of the room, his lean frame supported by one of the large, grey pillows that was more for decoration than comfort.
Caelius rounded suddenly, his cerulean blue gaze slimming dangerously. He'd moved forward, stopping only when Laelia's hand pressed the front of his shirt, his twin the only thing standing between the two men. His restraint was shown only in the muscle that coiled tight in his jaw, his teeth grinding together as he ground down the words that threatened to rise from his throat.
Their father had always been a sore subject, and Laelia knew it better than anyone. She knew the men in her family better than anyone, and no matter how many held Caelius to be a mirror image of their father, that assumption was far, far from the truth. As much as Egnatius groomed his son for the mantle he would inevitably pass on to him, there were vast differences between the two- even if not visible on the surface.
