LONG LIVE THE QUEEN // VRISKA

[Rwaht]

Rwaht had been in the City in the Sky for over a week now, aiding the Oocca as mercilessly as some sort of goodwill tyrant. The metaphor was apt. The Oocca seemed to deeply resent the fire-winged Hybrid Praetor offering them help and aid, bringing with him a trail of hybrids--many of them half-Oocca. What made it worse was that he practically forced said aid on them; he had broken the wrist of one man who had denied food, after pointing out that his daughter was starving. Rwaht was unrelenting when he knew what needed to be done.

It probably also didn't help that everyone seemed to blame him, somehow, for their new leader. Though from what he'd seen, Vriska was doing a fine job of ordering the restoration of the city. He'd shown up to take the hatred. Hopefully, the Oocca would loathe him, and forgive Vriska. He had a few suggestions for Vriska to help speed that along.

He also had quite a few questions. Such as, why had his sister been spending the past few weeks in the City in the Sky? And what was the punishment for the decapitation of the Sky Lady?

No, no, no, not the bad thoughts, he thought wryly, as he stomped through the City in the Sky. Once or twice an Oocca guard even tried to stop him, but the sheer look of doomgaze that Rwaht set upon them was undeniable.

He entered the throne room, which was thankfully empty of many people. He cocked an eyebrow at the throne, which was occupied by a very familiar face in very unfamiliar clothing.

"Vriska," he said simply, his face, as ever, a cold, stoic mask.

[Vriska]

Oddly enough, Vriska was actually starting to get used to life as a Lord. It was far from being an easy job, or a thankful job, but people were starting to accept that Vriska wasn't going to go away anytime soon. It helped that she was finally learning how to act, well, Lordly. It was a kind of seduction, to show not even a hint of doubt in yourself and oozing confidence from every pore. Nothing new, then.

When the first complaint about a 'crazy, expressionless samaritan' reached her, it didn't take Vriska long to guess Rwaht was in town. Indeed, for the past week most petitioners that came to her were complaining of some grievance Rwaht's charity had inflicted on them. The frank, almost violent kindness sweeping the city had taken its people entirely by surprise. Lord Commander Never-Call-Me-That Orin was probably the only man in Hyrule who would see nothing wrong with beating someone to health. As Rwaht finally saw fit to visit her, Vriska smiled. It was a tiger's smile.

It's so good to see you. Please, come closer.

Before she could properly greet her new guest, though, a man with his wrist in a splint cried out from the remaining petitioners. "That's him! That's the motherless lowlander dog that shattered my wrist! You would welcome this mongrel?! I demand justice!"

Vriska, halfway to rising from her throne, words dying on her lips, settled back down and shoot the accuser a withering look. The man met her gaze head-on, but was outmatched. His stubborn, proud outrage broke. Vriska addressed the room. "People, I assure you all that Highlord Orin's charity has not gone unnoticed. And neither," she added, shooting Rwaht a meaningful look. "Have his methods. Those of you with legitimate complaints may speak with Steward Octavian who will arrange for recompense."

At a signal from Vriska, the remaining petitioners were ushered out of the throne room. She sighed and stood up, stretching after a long day on the throne. If there was one difference Rwaht might notice about her after spending so long apart it was the way she moved. Vriska seemed, amazingly, perfectly comfortable in her own skin, and she was. She stretched like a cat, flexing each muscle to its fullest and showing off her newest dress, a dark, patterned thing that hugged a hard-earned figure. She closed in on Rwaht and gave him a hug. "Well," she said in Hylian, as the previous proceedings had been in the Sky Language. "What do you think?"

[Rwaht]

If Rwaht thought anything of the other Oocca who protested his presence, he didn't show it. His eyes remained trained on Vriska with a sort of silent ferocity. He disregarded the man who protested his presence with such dismissal that one could almost qualify it as disgust, except disgust required acknowledging someone else's existence. When Vriska questioned his methods, Rwaht's only reaction was to curve the corner of his lips into the imitation of a smile. That was the nice thing about leading a loosely organized group that had somehow acquired vast military power yet still had no jurisdiction: short of the princess, you didn't really answer to anyone.

Highlord bothered him though. Vriska knew how much he hated titles. But he supposed he'd earned that much. He'd had to spend years making up for how he'd failed her. He didn't mind a little more.

Some of the Oocca shot him vile looks as they walked by. Rwaht ignored them. It was good that their hatred was finding a target in him. That would make things better for Vriska, or at least he prayed it would. Most of them were too ignorant of the land to realize there was any connection to Vriska. If Rwaht was good at anything, it was striking fear into the hearts of his enemies. His friends ... he needed to work on how to deal with his friends. He still wasn't used to having them. When Vriska hugged him, he moved slowly, as though unsure, but hugged her back. He didn't realize it, but his face was still a hard mask. He stood back and looked at her, crossing his arms.

"You look good. Better. Like you know what you're doing. It's nice to see," he said, uncrossing his arms and clapping Vriska on the shoulder gently. He smiled. It was a rare sight. It was also somewhat terrifying. He pulled the Lady of the Sky closer, with sudden, steel-like force. The smile on his face was still there.

It was unnatural.

"Vriska, you are a good friend. One of my very few friends, in fact, and I hope you know just how important your well-being is to me. With that fully in mind," He yanked her even closer in what could only be called a death grip. "What, precisely, have you been doing with my sister?"

His smile could have killed people. In fact, one or two of Vriska's guards seemed about ready to faint.

[Vriska]

Vriska looked at Rwaht's face, then down to his hands, then back to his face. She cocked one eyebrow, perfectly, and it really said all that needed to be said. The growing Lady in Vriska did not take such vapid horseshit from anyone. "Things," she told him as an invisible, irresistible force pried his hands from her shoulders. Stepping away from Rwaht, a brief look of pain flashed over Vriska's face and she rubbed at her temples. "Sorry. Sorry. It's been a long day."

Trying to shake off her inner ruler, Vriska turned and walked away, using the movement to mask and imperceptible shake of her head to the captain of her guards, who had his hand on his sword. "Walk with me."

They left the throne room and Vriska led the way to her quarters. "How are things in the Sentinels? I'm sorry I haven't been able to do much lieutenanting, Rwaht. I've been busy." She turned to face him, still walking backwards without missing a beat. This time she was smiling genuinely. "Oh, and how are things between you and Aerith? Scandalous? Sordid? Or have you been being 'chivalrous'?"

The air-quotes were almost tangible.

[Rwaht]

Rwaht stared at Vriska for a long time, his face still a mask, but for the first time, genuine threat, and rage, broke through. Only the slightest frown marked his face, but something about the cold quality in his eyes was unsettling. That gaze had withered many men. It had been identical to the one he'd worn when he thought he was about to hang.

It was not, all things considered, a good sign. Something was noticeably different about Rwaht. It wasn't as though he lacked control, almost like he had too much control, as though his every action was deadly and precise as a razor's edge. He noticed the captain of the guard; he was also ready to kill him. Right now Rwaht seemed ready to burn anything to the ground that got in his way, though exactly what his way was was unclear. When Vriska smiled, he seemed to remember himself, and shook his head. He shut the door to Vriska's quarters and leaned against a wall, pressing a hand to his forehead.

"Things are a mess. The world's busy crumbling. All we need now is another apocalypse before I completely lose my mind," Rwaht said, before the frown returned. He grabbed Vriska by her metal shoulder. "But back to my sister. Don't tell me things. You don't know her. You could hurt her in ways you can't comprehend without realizing it. If you hurt her I swear I'll--" the threat in his voice was tangible, until he sighed and shook his head. His hand was still on Vriska's arm, but his grip lessened. "Sorry. I just ... I'm having a hard time dealing with her being back. I don't know what to do. You know what she said to me once I pardoned her? That she was sorry. Then she hugged me and vanished." Rwaht's free hand suddenly formed a fist and pounded the wall. The strength he possessed was unnatural for his size, and he was a pretty big guy. There was a burnt, singed mark where his fist had hit the wall, though his gloves didn't seem burnt. "What the hell do I make of that? And between that, all this business with Aerith ... I don't know what I'm doing. I think I've forgotten how to be happy. Ugh. Sorry. I guess I haven't had anyone to talk to in a long time."

If you looked really hard, you could actually tell that the Praetor wasn't just a roiling cauldron of determination. He was also a mess, one with no idea how to deal with his personal life.

[Vriska]

As Rwaht talked, keeping Vriska pinned in an iron grip, he was met with a look of unbending defiance. She'd entered into this situation expecting her old friend. It was dawning on her that as he was, Rwaht was a danger to himself and others. Behind her back, a dagger floated into her free hand. She may have become royalty, but her training hadn't slipped. On the upswing, Vriska laid open the skin of Rwaht's shoulder and cut into the outside of his forearm on the downswing as she twisted away from him.

Vriska immediately dropped into a guarded position and draped the White Seal and Weaken curses over her commander - Weaken so he'd feel he'd been cursed and the White Seal for emphasis. The knife was low, her steel arm was high and her voice was ironclad. "Until you caaaaaaaalm down you will n8t touch m8. You will not approach me. You will not use any m8gic. You will not draw a 8lade nor form a crystal 8r attempt to leave this room." Vriska was positive she could subdue Rwaht if he got out of control. Pretty positive. Kinda.

She straightened out of the stance, relaxing slightly but still visibly wound tight. She let her knife hand fall to her side, but she didn't show any sign of letting go of the knife any time soon. There was blood on the carpet and she had just stabbed her closest friend. And her accent was slipping. Great. "That you would even th8nk I would ever hurt Shayu tells me you've learned noooooooothing since the day you met me. Not one f8ck8ng th8ng. So s8t down, shuuuuuuuut 8p and DR8NK Y8UR G8D-DAMN TEA!"

Indeed, there were two comfortable chairs set facing the fireplace. Between them was a small table set with two cups and a still-steaming kettle.

[Rwaht]

Rwaht watched Vriska curiously, as though examining something from afar. When her knife tore open his skin, he only looked at it and raised an eyebrow. He stared at Vriska, his expression oddly detached, but less cruel than before. He almost looked sad.

"Vriska, if I truly wanted to harm you ... do you really think you could stop me?" he asked, walking forward calmly and taking the dagger out of Vriska's hand. The calm finality of the way he did it somehow made it hard to resist. He obviously wasn't trying to hurt her. The way he ignored the wound was strange. It was obviously there, and Rwaht did feel the pain, but he just acted as though it wasn't there. He took off his jacket, then used Vriska's knife to cut strips into it, binding one of them around his shoulder. He looked back at Vriska.

"I will only say this once. You are one of the most important people to me in this world. I would go to any lengths to protect you, to understand your pain, and to help you through that pain, no matter what that entailed. However, that does not change the fact that I will do anything to ensure my sister's safety and happiness. And no, you are not inviolate in that. No one is. Not even me. So if you think you are some sort of exception, then you do not know me. You can not learn everything you need to know about Jackal in a matter of weeks," Rwaht said. His voice sounded too controlled. Rwaht walked over to the table and sat. He pressed one hand to his forehead and frowned, staring at the kettle.

"Come over here. There's something you need to see. If you truly care for her ... you need to know about Jackal. You need to know ... what she's like. How she's different. How she's special." Something about the raw pain in Rwaht's voice made it clear how much he loved his sister. How much he cared for her. "You need to know about the things I've never told you. About my childhood, and hers. About the day our parents died. About all the mistakes I made." He closed his eyes.

"You need to know about my scar. You need to know the reason I don't call my sister by her birth name any more."

[Vriska]

Vriska handed over the knife reluctantly and crossed her arms defensively, wondering when Rwaht had become so controlling. Her grimace softened somewhat as he spoke, and once he sat down Vriska felt he was sufficiently defused for her to relax her guard. "Wait right there," she told him and vanished into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. A few minutes later a keen ear would be able to hear a muffled, fleshy crunch-snap-crunch-snap-crunch and a strangled, quickly suppressed half-scream of agony. A few minutes later Vriska stepped out, looking nine years old and wearing an opaque nightdress and carrying two bulky blankets. She was trembling very slightly, and was obviously doing her best to look untouchable. "Maybe not the best idea I've had today."

She threw one blanket at Rwaht and then climbed into the chair next to him. The tea was poured, and Vriska lay back, bundled up in the chair and looked at Rwaht. "Sorry about the whole stabbing thing just now. There's a potion in that blanket. Drink up." Sipping the tea, Vriska put on her most adorable face. "Tell me a stowy, mistah Ruwaht."

[Rwaht]

Rwaht blinked and looked up when Vriska compressed herself down into kiddy form. That was alarming. Though, surprisingly, it didn't feel too strange. He always sort of looked at Vriska like a little sister. This made the thought much more easily realized. In spite of himself, he smiled, catching the blanket deftly. He ignored the potion inside. He'd earned the knife-wound. He'd been ... dangerous. He couldn't explain it. Sometimes, when he went to a dark place, there was just ... no stopping him. It reminded him of Jackal in so many ways, and yet, it was so different. He smiled when Vriska tried to be cute. It worked.

"It is creepy to know it's you in there. That is way too cute," Rwaht said lightly, before he looked at the potion again. He figured there'd be a fight if he refused to drink it, and he was tired of fighting. He drank. Rwaht sighed, and put his hands together. "Understand that what I'm about to show you isn't about pity, or me trying to explain anything about myself. It's about Jackal. You need to see her. You need to see ... what made her."

He raised his hand, and a crystal began to form in the air between them. Rwaht was very, very good at shaping his crystals, and this time was something of a work of art. The crystal stretched and morphed until it had formed a huge sheet of nearly transparent, paper-thin crystal, as tall and as wide as Vriska was tall. He could see Vriska through it. He smiled, and pushed his chair back a fair distance, motioning that Vriska do the same.

"Promise me that what you see ... promise me you won't ever share this with anyone else. No one except Jackal. She deserves to know. She deserves...." Rwaht looked at his hands, as though expecting to find an answer in them. There was none. The crystal went dark, hiding them from one another, before suddenly, an image was projected on it.

Ten years ago

To Be Free

Rwaht had chased Shayu all across the city when he'd learned that she wasn't back at their adopted father's home. He had run from day to dawn, his shoes having been torn to shreds, his feet bleeding wildly. His hair--brown, shaggy, unkempt, but clean--flapped like a banner behind him as he darted in and out of any place he had ever known Shayu to like. Maybe a dress store that she'd looked at fondly, or an alleyway where she'd said something glad. Anything. Anything at all.

He saw a guard. Guards scared him, but now he was beyond fear. The panic on the boy's sweating, dirty face was visible. He tugged at the guard's cloak.

"E-excuse me. Have you seen my sister?" he asked, his voice quavering not from emotion, but sheer exhaustion. His legs were shaking faintly, but he ignored it, instead staring defiantly at the guard, who said nothing. Rwaht supposed he should've expected that much. He turned down an alley, remembering that Shayu had once played a game with him there.

I've got to find her. I've got to.

#

In the end, he found her in the last place he'd expected to: in an old, abandoned shack that she'd once said had seemed scary. Rwaht had told her that no one ever went to places like that, except monsters, and had told her a story. She'd laughed. It was the dead of night now, and everything was silent, even in the city.

He crept through the door and was terrified to see blood was dripping all across the floorboards, but he could barely make his sister out in the darkness. He approached her, but she said,

"Stay aw-away!" Her voice shook and she wiped a hand across her face. He realized that the blood was all over her hands, and stepped forward, heedless of the knife.

"Shayu, what's wrong?" Rwaht asked, softly, his voice soft and breathless. She held up the knife, but he quietly took it away from her and took her hands in his. "What--oh Goddesses." Rwaht's gasp made Shayu flinch away from him, and suddenly there were deep, painful cuts in Rwaht's hands. "No! I'm not--I'm not mad or scared or anything," Rwaht said, grabbing Shayu's hands again. Her fingernails were black, and sharp, and bleeding terribly. Her fingers were covered in cuts.

"I-I tried to stop it, but I c- ... I couldn't." Shayu's voice was wretched. Rwaht hugged her fiercely, and she hugged him back, not realizing that the claws were digging into Rwaht's back. Rwaht ignored it.

"I don't care. I love you, Shayu."

"But--"

"There's never a but."

#

In time, Shayu had grown used to the claws. Rwaht had to make sure she had no knives, or she'd try to pry them out, but in time, she grew used to them. What hurt the most were the things she couldn't do. Most of their cups or glasses were wooden or made of clay; Shayu's claws would rip them to shreds and ruin them. Rwaht had turned to the Goron that raised them and asked to learn how to forge metal in different shapes, and had started making things like cups and bowls. At first, they had been crude and ugly, and though Shayu never said it, he could see how disappointed she was.

So Rwaht had practised. Every day and night, all he ever did was practice at the forge, or with a sword. He learned how to use new, more precise tools, and as he worked, learned the magic that sung in metal. His master said that was the mark of a truly talented blacksmith, but Rwaht didn't care about being a blacksmith. He just wanted to see Shayu smile again.

Her birthday came. He waited all day long to give her her present, first preparing her a delicious meal that the Goron helped him with, then showing her a dress that he'd specially had made tougher than usual, so that unless she really dug her claws into it, it wouldn't tear. Then, finally, he took her out to the yard behind the forge. He had something in a box, behind his back. The smile on his face was so strangely content.

"Rwaht, you ... you don't have to do anything else," Shayu said, still sounding sad. The smile on Rwaht's face faded a little.

"I know. But I want to. Now come here," he said, taking her by the hand and pulling her over to a tree stump, before he knelt down in front of it, indicating that she should do the same.

"Rwaht, your hands," Shayu said, pulling her claws away. Rwaht blinked and looked at the palm of his hand; a razor-thin cut was there. He smiled.

"Not a problem. Working at a forge gives you pretty tough skin. Now come on, open your gift." he took the box out from behind his back and laid it on the tree stump, waiting expectantly. It was small enough to fit within one of Shayu's hands, and the box itself was sheet metal, covered in carefully designed etchings and overlaid with tines wrought in the shape of flowers. The top had a clear, intricately carved handle made of crystal. Shayu opened it, and reached inside. When she pulled it out, it was a small, flutelike cup. It was delicately made, with even more intricate work than the box that had held it. He had carved the image of a bird on one side, and a tree on the other. It looked delicate, but the metal that had made it was strong. He'd made dozens of them, each one stronger than the last. Shayu's fingernails didn't scratch it.

She held it for a long time, staring at it in wonder. It was the first pretty thing she'd been able to touch in a year.

"There's more," Rwaht said, smiling again. He reached out and stroked the side of the cup with the tree, a faint light passing from his hand. The pictures on the cup began to move slightly, so slightly that you almost didn't notice. It was as though the bird was breathing, its small chest rising, while the tree's leaves were swaying in a quiet breeze. A quiet, barely noticeable tune trickled out of the cup, sounding like metal clacking together, though somehow more musical. Shayu did nothing for a long time, staring at it with a blank, inscrutable look on her face. Rwaht felt his face go red, then quickly said, "It was supposed to be a bird chirping, but I couldn't really get it right."

"This is the most beautiful thing in the world," Shayu said, whispering it like a promise. She was crying. She laid the cup down in its box, where it continued to play its slow, sad tune. She moved to Rwaht and hugged him.

They stayed there for a long time.

#

The image faded.

"There's more. But that's the most important. She ... Jackal doesn't get many chances to interact with the normal world. Any she does get are precious. You can't forget that." Rwaht raised a hand to the crystal, barely pressing against where Shayu's face had been. "You can't," he whispered.

[Vriska]

At Rwaht's insistence, Vriska pushed her chair back as well, a thing made somewhat more difficult by the fact that she had the strength of a child. Then she climbed back in, wrapped the blanket around her and sipped her tea, wondering what the giant crystal was for. Then an image was projected on the crystal in amazing clarity and Vriska's breath caught. Even after all this time Vriska was still awed by the things Rwaht's crystals could do when he wasn't using them to blow shit up.

As the story went on, Vriska's heart crumbled. The tea in her hand cooled, quite forgotten as she tried to get through feeling like she was seeing something she shouldn't. Part of her was tempted to just close her eyes and block her ears until it was over, but more than anything she wanted to understand Shayu. To know how to best make her happy. "I won't," Vriska promised, bringing a hand up to brush at her lips, remembering the first time she'd kissed her. They'd laughed about it afterwards, kind of. Had it been so much more important than Vriska realized? Bracing herself for more, Vriska looked Rwaht in the eyes. "What else?"

[Rwaht]

Rwaht's gaze never left Vriska. He was leaning forward in his chair, his arms resting on his knees. He nodded.

"That's what I meant. You could hurt her without knowing it. I doubt you'd ever try to. But she's led a complicated life, and she's a complicated person. You can't treat her as she seems. She's strong, but she looks at the world through such a radically different lens than you or I."

Rwaht paused. He had shown Vriska the only time he hadn't failed Jackal. That time of self-indulgence was over, now. He shook his head.

"This one ... this one is shorter. But it may be more important."

Cloudy, black smoke appeared on the screen. Then, it swirled, forming another scene....

Eight years ago

To Be Free

"Shayu, get out of bed. C'mon, it's nearly midday," Rwaht said, nudging Jackal gently. She was still wearing the gloves he had made for her, so that she wouldn't tear up her bed while she slept. With every new challenge Shayu's strange development threw at her, Rwaht tried to produce an answer. The remnants of a dozen tattered dresses laid down in a corner, each one an improved prototype over the last, none of them able to survive compared to Shayu's claws. Rwaht didn't know why she kept all the failures. Shayu didn't respond, so he nudged her again.

The morning quiet was broken by piercing screams.

Rwaht leapt back from the bed before he tried to move closer, while the sudden, ear-splitting shrieks coming from Shayu faded to a series of piteous whines. Rwaht's voice grew more and more desperate as he tenderly pulled back the blankets to reveal his sister.

"What's wrong? Shayu? Shayu? Oh Goddesses, no."

Then, Rwaht collapsed against the bed and started crying. Blood was leaking out of his sister's ears, and the bones in her head were broken, jutting out and pressing against her skin at odd angles.

#

For the next two weeks, Rwaht and his Goron master searched through the city for any doctors or healers who would see to Jackal, who was utterly despondent save when she cried out in blinding, animal pain. Anyone who looked at her suggested ending her life out of mercy, but Rwaht would nearly become violent at the suggestion. It was fortunate that the Goron's calm wisdom was available to deflate those situations. In the end, they found a fairy healer who promised to apply some cooling salves and magic, but said that there was nothing really to be done.

"Her body is doing this all on its own. I can't explain it, but I can't stop this from happening. All you can do is see it through and hope it ends," she said. So they did. They watched as the week passed, noticing that her ears were shifting more and more on her head, until they were near the top. Then, they began to change in shape, slowly, until by the end they looked catlike.

It was two weeks before Shayu could speak again. When she did, her voice didn't work. She could only manage hisses, clicks, and growls. And there was more. When Rwaht would try and hug her, or even just approach, she would hiss and retreat, baring her teeth--which were looking alarmingly like fangs--and arching her claws.

One day, Rwaht knocked on the door to her room, waiting patiently for a response. There was a loud, clicking noise, which Rwaht interpreted as permission. He slid open the door and walked in, slowly, watching his sister carefully. She had retreated to the pile of torn dresses in one corner. She looked up at him suddenly, her face looking absolutely wild. Her breathing was short and raspy, and she was clutching a torn dress to her chest. Rwaht almost wanted to start crying then and there.

"Shayu, I--" He was cut off as his sister bared her fangs--definitely fangs--and hissed at him. He didn't know what to do, so he just kept walking towards her, holding out a hand. He stopped about two paces away from her and knelt down, still holding out his hand. There were tears in both their eyes. Slowly, and cautiously, Shayu crept forward and touched Rwaht's hand with hers. She suddenly gripped it tightly, the nails there digging in deep. Rwaht ignored the pain and moved closer, trying to hug her. There was a sudden blur, a quick slash, and Shayu's arm shot into Rwaht's face. Something deadly sharp on the edge of her wrist dig into his cheek and tore a clean, long cut up into his forehead, nearly missing his eye. Rwaht backpedalled in a panic, staring at Shayu with a newfound ... was it fear? Or just concern? Maybe both. His left eye started blinking as blood dripped down into it.

He wiped the blood out of his eye and crept towards his sister, raising both of his arms, waiting for her to come to him. She inched closer, and closer, her eyes trained on him, before she finally collapsed into his arms.

"W-w-wrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-wha-k-k-k-k-k... wr-wr-rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr-k-k-k-wrong with me?" Shayu looked up at her brother, tears in her eyes. She saw the cut on Rwaht's face and started crying harder, burying her face in his chest. She was grabbing onto Rwaht's shoulders tightly, digging cuts in there, too. Rwaht didn't react, just held her close and tried to hide his own tears.

"I don't know, Shayu. I don't know."

#

The image faded once again. Without realizing it, Rwaht's hand had drifted to the scar on his forehead. He didn't say anything.

There wasn't anything to say.

[Vriska]

There were tears in Vriska's eyes. She knew what Rwaht was doing was only good, that it was vastly important, but she hated seeing Shayu like this. It was horrible and awful and it hurt, but Vriska knew that if she wanted to hold on to Shayu she needed to know everything. She wanted to know everything.

But not through Rwaht. Shayu should be here. Which was a completely illogical thought - all she was seeing was Rwaht's side of the story. And yet...

Vriska tried to wipe the tears from her eyes. Her voice was a small, pitiful thing compared to the silence in the room. "Anything else?"