Rainblade-Ryalors Private Barracks/Imperial Condos Completed Such Devoted Sisters

[Dusk Rainblade]

"You're sure it's her this time?" Dusk asked critically, checking her makeup in a small mirror she kept in her desk drawer. She touched up her purple eye shadow with a small brush as her assistant Marisha hovered, assorted high-profile reports in the calico cat's arms. None would be read this afternoon, it seemed. "I don't want to find myself face to face again with some unfortunate doppelganger again. It's getting very expensive to clean up after these mistakes. That cocktail of drugs to muddle their memories isn't cheap you know."

"The snatch team is confident this time, Minister. For one, it appears she came willingly."

"She surrendered herself?"

"Not immediately; one of the team is being treated for a bite wound. Still, as soon as they identified themselves as M.A.U.L. acting on your orders, she ceased struggling immediately and said, per their paraphrase, 'Well, let's get going, can't keep my sister waiting'."

"I'm sure it sounded more charismatic in her accent. Well, after the sighting of Jeshal in the warehouse district, I suppose this is just confirmation that they're really back. 'Gates, Occult Division really made a meal out of that one. They're going to look like a right set of rat tails over that."

"Pardon, Minister, but I'm afraid that phrase is-"

"Do you see the word 'Niceties' on the crest above the door, Marisha? It's just you and me here, I'll say what I want to. Now, go bring her in."

"Yes Minister."

Marisha went to the door on the distant wall, poking her head out and saying something that couldn't be well discerned across the distance. Then the doors opened fully and two cloaked M.A.U.L. agents walked in, escorting a beast with a black bag over her head between them. Their reflection was mirrored in the glossy black onyx floor, the imperfections of which made it appear like walking on a field of stars. That had been one of Minister Nicolas's vanity touches, one which Dusk actually appreciated. It was difficult to keep clean and waxed, but she thought it was worth it. She'd added a touch of her own, replacing the large window overlooking the Harbor with a stained glass version resembling the M.A.U.L. crest, three daggers coming together a their points in a Y shape, now with a stylized eye added in the middle to remind the Imperium that Misanthropy was always watching. Dusk loved how, when the light came in just right, it back lit her in the most delightfully sinister way. After all, if she was to be Minister of Misanthropy, she might as well embrace the villainous aesthetic.

The agents guided the hooded beast, paws bound before her, and led her to sit in a comfy padded armchair before Dusk's desk. She had a whole closet of chairs nearby ranging from the plush to the agonizing, depending on who was coming in and the tone she wanted to set. This was, she hoped, going to be a friendly meeting.

"Remove her hood," Dusk instructed. One of the agents grabbed the hood by its tip and pulled it off, leaving the vixen beneath exposed. Dusk felt her heart leap into her throat. 'Gates, it was Tanya. She'd heard that Talinn had made contact with her, commissioned some work from her specifically, but by that point she'd barely been on speaking terms with her husband and hadn't wanted to ask. Still, despite the changes to her face that thirty years had wrought - changes that Dusk knew very well had acted upon her as well - the beast was unmistakably Tox.

"Hello sister," Dusk said, her tone softer than she'd expected from herself. "Welcome home."

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

No matter what her pride continued to argue this was still, all things considered, the best option for getting the audience she was seeking. Tanya had arrived back upon the Imperium’s shores amidst a maelstrom of mixed emotions – emotions which were shelved the moment she read of her sister’s current Ministerial post. With her network of contacts severely diminished and few resources she could leverage to gain access to her sister, the M.A.U.L agents (once disclosed as such) had proven a timely intervention after all.

Besides, she’d only just re-sharpened her claws: it would have been a shame to blunt them with climbing the walls. Let the work of bringing her in sit on Misanthropy’s books.

Funny. For a trio of orphans, the three of us didn’t end up doing so bad after all.

As she was guided to sit (nice chair. Feels ominous) Tanya found herself suddenly appreciating the bag over her head. The barrier of fabric, for this brief time, afforded some small protection as Tox worked to gain control over her face and emotions in advance of the meeting. It had been decades since their last conversation and ‘Gates if she could even remember a word of what was said, only the distinct animosity and mistrust. What was her sister even thinking and feeling towards her; why go to the trouble of still having beasts watch for her when she had shown so little interest in returning for all of these years? That Dusk was part of Misanthropy didn’t exactly foster much hope in there being a change in her sibling, an audience was at least not an assassination. Directly.

Tentative hope warred with curiosity warred with mistrust. When the bag was lifted, she initially squinted in the bright contrast which backlit Dusk in all her glory until last she could discern her features. Tanya took her in in an instant. For all the years which had passed, she could not look on her sister and lie: in her eyes the seasons had been exceedingly kind. She always was the beautiful one, and that had clearly not changed.

Whatever flicker of vulnerability might have registered was hastily suppressed for an impassive stare. Tox’ paws had been making small movements throughout the walk to assess how to escape the bindings at her wrists, but she was out of practice: it would take a few more minutes yet before she could slip them, if only for her own comfort. She was hardly going to ask politely.

When it came, her response was decidedly stiff, an unspoken demand that she would not drop such defences in the presence of the M.A.U.L agents. “Home’s not here,” she sniffed. “Anyways, why the bag for bringing me in? Do you think I’d not manage to find this place even after all these years, or you just showin’ off your toys for my benefit?” Green eyes swept briefly over the stained glass. Alright, the avaricious side of her did rather like the opulence. “All very nice I’m sure, but you didn’t bring me all the way in just for a tour, did you?” A crooked grin settled on her face. “Don’t tell me you missed me, now.”

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Dusk felt a small, childlike mirth rising in her at her sister's petulance, her mind suddenly flashing back to a toddler Tanya sitting on the floor of their mother's tiny cottage, tearing apart a doll. It had been one of Dusk's favorites, but she'd carelessly left it out and Tanya had been teething then. Dusk had cried and stomped her foot, but their mother had told her not to yell at her sister, and Dusk had been the one who had gotten in trouble for making a fuss. That became our entire life, she realized in a moment. Me trying to take from her like she took that doll from me. It couldn't be that simple, could it? A childhood slight from so long ago, it had nearly passed out of Dusk's memories and surely didn't persist in Tanya's?

This is going to be quite the mess to work out in my next session with Thistle.

She let the mirth bubble up inside her, keeping that emotion and repressing the ugly well of resentment that threatened to burst through the hole it left behind. "Oh, I missed you, in a fashion," she chuckled, a high, breathy laugh escaping her in a moment of calculated release. "I missed our sparring, the competition, all of the pettiness we could afford when we were young. Then you left, and I remained, and life happened. So many moments of significance, moments of personal triumph and bitter defeat... and I had no one to share them with. I stood alone at Khan's grave when he died - not even the children by his first marriage showed up. I found and lost lovers, I got married, had kits - I know, right? Who would have ever expected me to become a mother?" Her eyes shimmered slightly with tears as she admitted, "Through it all, I wished you were there, Tanya. I don't know if I wanted to rub it in your face, to prove that I could do it all better than you, or if I just wanted someone to be there with me, someone who would understand, but... Well, either way, I wanted you there."

She cleared her throat, quickly dabbing at her eyes with the pad of her paw before reaching to a drawer in her desk. She pulled out a bottle of Maquistry '46 she'd stashed away for an opportunity to celebrate, and set it on the desk, followed by a corkscrew. Two crystal goblets followed after. "So, here you are," she noted as she started to work the screw into the cork. "And now, thirty years later, we finally can catch up. To say all the things we never did. So..." She pulled out the cork, then started pouring the rich burgundy liquid into the glasses. "How have you been, dear sister? How is your life?"

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Rarely had the advent of teary eyes had any impact on Tanya’s approach. Today was no exception. Her smirk had dropped in the face of Dusk’s reply but otherwise remained inscrutable as she stared at her sister. Usually she could get a decent read on other beasts, but she always had been that little bit too good at manipulation: whether Dusk was being genuine or not she could not discern.

The only flicker came as a brief furrowing of the brows at the mention of Khan. Rapidly she flicked back through her memory for a face to the name, trying to piece together what relevance it held. An old todd at last came to mind; a crewbeast, though ultimately she’d had little to do with him. A grumpy sort if she recalled. What in ‘Gates would Dusk even care about the death of some old fox? Unease began to settle in the pit of her stomach, and though creeping dread nagged at her to ask she did not yet voice the question. She suspected her sister wanted her to and she was unwilling to give her the satisfaction.

Instead Tox eyed the goblets for a moment before turning her attention back to the agents who had brought her in. “Your Minister’s looking rather upset, don’t you think? Perhaps you’d better go find her a kerchief or velvet cushion or whatever Misanthropy weeps into these days. Be dears, would you?” It was quite likely that Dusk might not allow them to excuse themselves from the room as a safety precaution, but that being so Tanya was unwilling to play anything but the obstinate brat. It always did come naturally around Dusk; something about her very mannerisms seemed to bring it out as though making stark relief of the sisters.

Turning back, fixing Dusk with her stare in what she hoped was a clear message of intent, Tanya sunk back into the plush chair. After a moment’s pause, she shrugged her narrow shoulders. “Life’s been good,” she replied, still guarded. “Simple. Funny ‘ow much space in the brain a city like this takes up. Got to raise my own kits – and if I can have ‘em, don’t really shock me much you could be a mother too.” Her nose wrinkled; a genuine smile flashed across her face, if only for a moment. “So I’m an aunt again, eh? Who’s the todd responsible for such a travesty? I allowed to meet ‘em or has that ship sailed and all?”

It was clear that she was deliberately skirting those deeper moments; the commentary on her absence and Dusk’s loneliness through her trials and tribulations. Tox had had to live with all she had left behind – as of her departure she’d have believed her sibling only too happy to be rid of her. That she could be missed was almost…baffling. Comforting? Hard to believe. It tugged at something vulnerable in Tanya, the potential that her only immediate blood relative might be genuine: the chance to repair something before either of them were left alone. “Say all the things we never did, was it? In the hopes of what, understanding? reconciliation?”

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Surprisingly, at Tanya's suggestion to the agents, Dusk made a shooing motion with her paw, and the pair left the room - whether or not to seek out a kerchief remaining to be seen. Dusk's smile turned slightly wry at Tanya's impulse to deflect by being a little brat; it was amazing how being around each other again could reduce them to the kits they'd once been, or at least to a version of the kithood they hadn't gotten together.

"Reconciliation," she allowed, "might be a high bar. After all, we're very different vixens, and even if we understood each other perfectly, I'm uncertain that we would find each other more agreeable for it. But," she suggested, pushing one of the glasses across the table toward Tanya, "perhaps we can manage sisterhood instead, whatever that means." She took a sip of the wine to prove it wasn't poisoned before addressing her sister's flippant questions.

"I actually understand that you've met my husband - even did some work for him, if I understand correctly. I'm slightly miffed that I had to find out after the fact from my spies in his household, but such are the costs of separation." She sighed a bit forlornly before adding, "How are little Valdrisk and Aille? Not so little now, I would presume. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if they had a few little ones of their own scampering about now. It's certainly amusing to imagine you as a grandmother, I must say."

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

The brief frown which had come at the mention of Khan returned again, though this time instead of dread the mention of Talinn set cogs whirring. She was out of the loop, that much was evident, but oh how quicky Bully Harbour sunk its claws back into her – and how much she wanted to return the favour. The word separation stuck in the back of her mind as the conversation rattled onwards.

“Oh, don’t make me feel so old,” Tanya chuckled – again, surprisingly genuine considering her guarded heart. “They all make me feel ancient enough as it is some days. They’re doing well, bigger’n’cleverer’n either of their parents. No children, but they’ve got some half-siblings.” Dusk had spoken clear enough of her hopes, and though she did not believe there wasn’t something deeper in this meeting between them, Tanya was more than willing to indulge in conversation until it became apparent. Beneath it all, after all the seasons, she was only too happy to sit in the small talk. It was, for a brief moment, the crystallization of a familial bond they had never shared. Tox was all too happy to snatch what she could of such moments.

The bonds at her wrists dealt with, Tanya slipped the ropes and reached out for the glass, though she did not sip the drink yet. Old habits as a poisonmaster die hard: the liquid was clearly safe, but the glass was another matter. How fast that paranoia’s cone back. ‘Gates, I didn’t even have to think about it.

“Right, come on then – you want sisterhood you can start with the details.” Green eyes flashed with childish mirth. “You’re right that I’ve done some work for Talinn, though we communicated almost exclusively by writing. He failed to make mention that he was in a relationship with my sister – or that it had failed. What exactly’s been goin’ on, and do I need to pay the Minister of Innovation a little sisterly visit to clear up some wrongdoings? How’re your kits taking it?”

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Dusk listened to Tanya's musing about her kits, enjoying what, in another life time, might have passed for sisterly chatter, catching up after a long time apart. She waved her paw dismissively in response to the inquiry about confronting Talinn. "The whole situation is complicated," she acknowledged. "I'll give you the full story one day, but... Well, suffice it to say, there were certain developments in the relationship that I couldn't cope with, and I've found it easiest to handle our marriage from a distance for the last ten years. At least, as much of a distance as I can get while being his fellow minister." She sighed as she admitted, "The kits didn't take it well at first, but they've had time to come to terms with it. Most of them are back in Westisle anyway, so it's not like they see either of us as more absent than we would be if we weren't separated. Alwyn, our oldest, is in the city now, and he's handling it pretty well. Our middle two, Ameliya and Alexei, took it a bit harder; they were just coming of age when the separation happened. As for our youngest, Anastasia, well... With that girl, it's hard to know what's going on in her head, and I'm not sure I want to." She shuddered slightly at the memory of her youngest child. Of all her children, Anastasia had perhaps taken after Dusk the most. It wasn't until she'd gotten older that Dusk could appreciate what a terrifying prospect that was.

Guilt entered Dusk's eyes, and she downed the remainder of her glass before she continued speaking. "Actually," she admitted, "my kits are the reason I wanted to see you. I..." She back tears, trying to swallow a lump in her throat. Why was this do hard? "I have one more daughter," she admitted. "One who Talinn doesn't know about. I think she's in danger, Tanya. Two days ago, I got this by Missertross Gull." She pulled out from her coat pocket a small scrap of parchment, one covered in hasty script: M I N A. "I named her Mina Rose," she explained, "in honor of our niece, before I gave her away for her protection. No one else is supposed to know she exists. And now... Now I don't even know if she's alive."

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Tox nodded away amiably as the updates were exchanged, nodding or raising eyebrows at the names of her relatives. Alexei, eh? She remembered that old todd well – both the arguments and laughs shared whilst courting Falun.

Something close to amusement crossed her narrow features at the mention of Anastasia – ‘Gates if Dusk was offput by her youngest that must speak volumes of her character – but that information alone felt invaluable. She’d have to keep an eye on her nieces and nephews, however she’d manage that nowadays. It was swiftly becoming clearer to Tanya just how little she knew now of the Harbour she had loved and protected for so many years. That she was lacking not only her contacts but stepping back into a world so changed, and with no political influence, was beginning to rankle at her pride. Ah well, ‘tis the price paid. I started from smaller beginnings than this; I can at least find a new space here.

Help was mentioned and her brush flicked once. Ah, here it comes. In fact Tanya was not able to keep the three words from slipping out as a quiet murmur whilst she toyed with her glass. That a youngster was in danger did not escape Tanya’s notice, nor her empathy, and part of her railed against the fact that Dusk was likely banking on that certainty. Whatever the outcome, Tox was likely to acquiesce. If she was going to be manipulated so, she’d need to make it worth something, if only to prove a point.

Tanya reached out and took the parchment to see for herself, though scanning the single message put her hackles up at once, which wasn’t to mention Dusk’s following statement. A millstone settled in her stomach. Alexei. Falun. Valdrisk. Those were names she knew well had been given in honour. Quite suddenly she felt hot and sick, though green eyes were more akin to chips of ice and her passive expression became distinctly fixed. “I can’t imagine Armina’d made too much of you naming a kit after her. What’s her thoughts on that?”

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Dusk's eyes widened at Tox's reaction, her face falling. "You mean Talinn didn't-? ...No, I don't suppose he would. He couldn't risk it being intercepted." Her eyes turned wide and soulful as she looked at her sister. 'Gates, I never wanted to have this conversation...

"After you left," Dusk explained slowly, "Armina had... problems. She did a lot of things that made her a public enemy: she burned the Hide, murdered dozens of beasts, one of her own crew included. By the end, I don't think she was Armina anymore, she was whatever those voices in her head had made her. Well, after she disappeared, the Ryalors found her. They managed to medicate her, gave her a new name, Vaelora - or I guess it was her old name, really. Her mother was one of them, if you can believe it." The corner of her mouth twitched as she remarked, "What are the odds? All three of us wind up fooling around with Ryalors. I can't say which side has the worse taste."

Her smile faded as she continued. "The Ryalors faked her death, introduced her as one of their own, gave her white fur even - but still, the resemblance was obvious, and Anithias saw it. He didn't buy her story for a minute, and he warned to see her hang. I don't know if it was for what she'd done, or just for who she'd been to him before, but he made a vendetta out of it. Eventually, he succeeded. He whipped up a mob against the Ryalors, and he managed to incite an assassin to plant a dagger in her back." She blinked back tears as she confessed, "She was happy, Tanya. She was back with Bridger, she'd adopted three kits, she was so happy with the family she'd built, so confident and full of life - and then Anithias took her, even if not by his own paw. And I wasn't there to save her."

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

The silence was deafening. Tanya’s eyes remained riveted to the scrap of parchment as she listened, for to make eye contact would be to invite vulnerability in grief she could not express. Flushed with grief and indignation she could feel her gorge rise to think of such bitterness from Anithias towards the vixen who had once been his ward. What in 'Gates had become of everybeast? Her family on the Hide she had so adored, it seemed, had done more than fracture. It was gone.

Vaelora. So, what, she had been remade into a vision of who she should have been, as though Armina was a dirty secret; a past to be buried and medicated and forgotten?! But she’d been happy in this other life…’Gates, she had kits. And she hadn't been there for them, either. Every promise she’d made to her father was broken. She should have come to Kutoroka with her after all, lived quietly.

Pain transmuted, as it often does, to anger, and the amount of vitriol Tanya suddenly possessed for the Ryalors took even herself by surprise. Not so much the individuals, but what the house represented. All houses, all generational family titles. How many lives would continue to be pulled apart in the name of legacy, of power, in fear of change? How many young lives would continue to be snuffed out as their elders gleefully shepherded them towards the same patterns they had, themselves, suffered through? It was a world she had never been part of, knowing neither such titles nor even her own heritage: even at the height of her infamy in the Imperium she had found formal functions an awkward affair. She still could not understand it.

For the longest time it seemed as though Tox wasn’t of a mind to reply at all. Grief and shock had a grip on her windpipe, some invisible paw keeping her from speech. If she acted now there was no predicting what would come out. Tears, also, fought to reach her eyes; a voice not hers in the back of her mind remained stern. You don’t cry, not in front of others. Her nose twitched, eyes focused even more intently on the lettering as she swallowed her emotions.

At length her reply came clipped and hoarse, quiet in the expansive room of her sister’s office. “When was this and where are her kits now?”

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Dusk watched her sister's reaction, recognizing much of the same cascade of grief, resentment, bewilderment, and self-loathing that she'd gone through a dozen times in her life. When she and Kaden had hunted down an unhinged, murderous Armina in the sewers beneath the Kreehold; when Bridger's sister, Marie, had been captured by Callisparian mercenaries; when Vaelora was murdered, her kits orphaned, and House Ryalor massacred by assailants unknown; and, so many times through the years, when her own kits had been in danger, under threat of kitnapping or even murder because of who their parents were.

She should have anticipated the question, but it still caught her by surprise. "They're fine," she rushed to assure Tox. "They survived the attack and made their way back to Eastisle - on the Hide, no less. Talinn and I raised them as cousins to our own kits. Valin, the oldest, is a provincial governor back in Westisle, as it's called now. Mileya, the youngest, is our representative in Amarone - 'Gates, she's the spitting image of Armina now, it's disconcerting sometimes to see her, I keep forgetting she's adopted and not Armina's own blood. The middle child, Daniil, is in the Harbor, though," she added. "He's at Pyrostoat Memorial right now recovering from a wound. Apparently he got caught up in some attack in the Slups - nothing to do with the House, just bad luck. The doctors say he'll make a full recovery. He's aiming to join the Stoatorian Guard. I think you'd like him," she reflected. "After Vaelora died, he took it upon himself to protect his cousins and his siblings. He's a bit more earnest than talented, but he tries hard, bless him."

She shook her head as memories came back to her of all those attempts on her kits' lives and freedoms he'd tried, and failed, to fully prevent. "I sometimes wish I'd sent them all off to live with you instead," she admitted. "The kits. This life, it's... You know what it's like, it's no way for a kit to grow up. I guess that's what I was trying to save Mina Rose from. I didn't want her to be another traumatized, maladjusted Ryalor princess. I mean, how much happier are Vald risk and Aille for growing up away from all that?"

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

“Much happier,” Tanya sighed. For the sake of her shaking paws and to offset the tears which would not come fully – but whose evidence may betray her yet - she rubbed her face vigorously. “They had a proper kithood, after those early years. Still see it in their eyes now an’ again that there’s some things we can’t heal. They saw their dad die, after all. They’re keepin’ his name as a connection, and I’d never take that from them, but I’ve tried to shield them from the ambition of the Ryalor house. I just worry it won’t be enough some days and they’ll get pulled into some war or other all in the name of…well, it don’t matter. My other two have no such problems; they grew up like they should. Got the kithood we never did, an’ if I’ve done nothing else in my life it’s doing what I could to raise those four outside of what this place brings.”

Her mind was still reeling with the news of her niece’s death, questions about her killer and Anithias and so much which could not be answered from mere interrogation. At once she wanted to run; to hide from those around her and give full vent to the fury and anguish clutching at her chest. She had always been so composed delivering this news to others, but to receive it was an agony she had long forgotten.

It could not be faced here, not now – or at least not until she’d found a way to muddle through the rest of this conversation. Tox rubbed at her face again and ran claws through her headfur, making a curious sound in the back of her throat before she spoke again. “Thank you for telling be about-…about her. I’ll do some readin’ up in my own time, but before I ask anything else…I need to know if there’s anything else I should know. Anything since I left which might not be in the papers or whispered in the bars. What’s really been happening in this city since I was gone?” Paws gripped her knees, claws sinking in to offset the tremble.

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Dusk could see how the news was affecting Tanya, and she sympathetically offered the half-full bottle of wine. In the days after Armina's death - the faked one, and the real one - she'd turned to drink a few times to help cope and process her grief. At the question about what had been happening in the city, Dusk gave a small shrug. "For the most part, life. This new Empress is trying for a more egalitarian society: woodlanders are allowed, slavery is abolished, and beasts who might otherwise not be tolerated are... well, at least not being arrested or harassed by mobs anymore. Beat-a-Sean Day has largely become a holiday celebrated in effigy since the death of the last known Sean in 1758. The navy is still coming and going, the army is... there, and no one knows how to fix the Slups still."

She hesitated before proceeding a bit more quietly. "I know where Anithias and Julia's kits are," she continued, her voice soft. "Talinn got his revenge on Anithias thrice over: once by..." She swallowed before admitting, "by killing Julia. The Furotazzis accepted the hit, killed her in the streets, and stole her kits away. After a mob hung Anithias from a tree, the Furotazzis raised the kits. They're grown up, living in the Harbor. If... If you feel you need to get your own revenge on Anithias's memory, then I can tell you where to find them."

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

Any reflection Tox might have had on these changes to the city were discarded the moment her sister spoke on of the kits. Ice turned to fire; Tanya’s eyes blazed. In an instant the grief had left her features in place of simmering rage. This close to the revelations, Tanya couldn’t honestly say what it was she in fact wanted, aside from Armina alive. What she felt towards Anithias was too complex to untangle; what she felt about the kits, however, was clear enough at least. They had no part in his work.

“You’d best be joking. Is that what you think of me?” Tanya hissed, her tail thumping against the polished floor between the suspiciously measured words. “You’d set me on his children, no questions asked, and call that revenge - or is that just finishing the job none of the rest of you had the stomach for?” Sitting back the vixen shook her head. “No, I’m not like that husband of yours, whether or not that’s why you and him are…” She waved a paw, “complex. No, I’m a killer by trade but I’m not interested in revenge. That’s how all this nonsense keeps goin’. She sounds avenged, but by ‘Gates am I furious with all’ve you that it got to this point.”

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Dusk winced as Tox furiously upbraided her for the offer. "You're right," she allowed. "What happened to Julia... That went too far. She was my friend too, Tanya. She put me back together after...." She flinched as some memory came to mind, one too unpleasant to bring into the air between them. "I understand why Talinn did it, just as I know that he regrets it; he went too far in his grief, and I'm sure he'd take it all back if he could." She sighed as she admitted, "There's so much I wish we could take back. I know that Armina never wanted revenge. She was better than all of us in that way, at least at the end."

She sighed, leaning back in her chair, pawfingers steepled in front of her chin contemplatively. Her coat shifted just enough to reveal a pair of thin, black steel handles tucked into a leather sheath in an inner pocket.

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

The hint of the blade’s handles caught some unconscious part of Tanya’s attention, more by instinct to note weaponry than immediate recognition, but she did not yet pass comment. Truthfully, having gifted such blades to her niece it did not occur to her to even consider they would still be around, let alone in the possession of her sister.

She was still rather too distracted by her own anger, regardless of the hypocrisy which would later nag at her. “Oh you’re a Minister born, sister. Empty words, not enough for the truth of what you both did. I’ll speak with Talinn meself about it some time, but aye, you’re right. She was better’n any of us and the lot of us let her down. Poor thing should never have been forced into this mess.”

She sniffed and exhaled sharply, aware that if she didn’t get some control of herself she might say something she would regret; this early in the stage of reuniting with Dusk she was loath to push things, even now. “We’re…gettin’ distracted. We’ll make time for talkin’ about this all - an; believe me we will - somewhere less formal’n your office. You had a job for me about,” the name felt uncomfortable on her tongue, “your Mina. You don’t know if she’s alive, so you’re, what, wantin’ me to track her?”

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Dusk took a deep breath, trying to compose herself. She knew that this conversation with Tanya was far from over, and there would be the 'Gates themselves to pay for what had happened to Armina and Julia. That, however, was for another day. "Yes," she confirmed. "That was what I wanted to ask of you...and, if she is alive, to bring her to safety in Bully Harbor. I left her with an innkeeper and his wife, a very darling pair who never had kits of their own, and I gave them a dedicated Missertross gull, one that was to find me if released. That gull delivered that message." She pointed to the slip on the table. "I gave them a whole code book to use to encrypt messages to me, whether letters by post or emergency communication by gull; that they just went that word tells me they were in grave danger and acting fast. I can only..." Her eyes started to water as she continued, "I can only pray my daughter's alive."

She took one more deep breath before continuing. "There's one more thing I have to ask," she said slowly. "I know I have no right to, but... please, don't tell her I'm her mother. I've ruined the lives of four of my children already, I don't want to disappoint a fifth, nor drag her into more danger by affiliation with me. She's a smart girl, I'm sure; after all, she's my daughter, so she'll notice some family resemblance. If she asks, if she won't go any other way..." She looked up at Tox, barely daring to hope. "Could you tell her that you're her mother instead?"

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

If she had been able to see herself externally throughout this entire conversation, the usually unflappable vixen would have been horrified at just how expressive she was being. She would have blamed it on being so long absent from Ministry work and the masks politics so often require, but family had always been her weakness. She was just too close to see it.

The speed at which her tail thumped increased; she looked bemused, then concerned, then mortified. “You’d want me to…? And what’d I say when she sees Kinza or Lorcan? What excuse’m I supposed to give her for sending only her away? Can’t we…I don’ know, pin it on Valdrisk, say the dates got mixed up or he faked his death a while an’ bedded other vixens?” Her ears flattened in agitation – though, notably, with less hostility. She already knew she’d be heading out to collect Mina regardless. Wasn't the poor thing's fault she was born a Rainblade. If she's Dusk's, she'll not be dead.

 

[Dusk Rainblade]

Dusk gave Tanya a small glare. "Do you really want to try to tell an eighteen-year-old vixen that she's actually thirty-four? As for Valdrisk having faked his death..." She sighed as she considered it. "Not the worst idea," she admitted, "but making her think her father is still alive out there, hoping for that, feels a bit cruel. Besides, bringing her here, making her think that she's the sister of the most notorious serial killer since Jak the Reaper? That's a lot." She mulled it over before deciding, "I guess that Valdrisk idea is better than nothing. Maybe we say he really died five years ago or something, this time for real. I suppose having dead parents is better than having living ones who have to explain why they left her there." Her own tone turned regretful as she clearly considered what that conversation would look like for her.

"Now, I don't know if you have your own boat or not," Dusk allowed, "but I've recently come into possession of a schooner. It's been completely stripped and refitted, fresh coat of paint, everything; the only thing I've kept are a few reliable members of the old crew. It hasn't been officially registered to me or the navy; it's in the name of a holding company. It's in need of both a captain and a name... If you feel like taking it."

 

[Tanya Keltoi]

It was at least something. Tanya scratched the side of her muzzle with a sigh. “I don’t much like lying to youngsters, but alive an’ angry is better’n dead. We’ve got a small craft of our own, but I’d not say no to another for this trip to save pryin’ eyes. You can do as y’ fancy with her when it’s back, or hold onto it as a gift for any young’uns who earn it.

“What happens after, though? You’re asking me to look out for her, and ‘Gates knows if she’s alive I’ll bring her back in one piece, but whether she believes I’m her aunt or her mother or a fairy foxmother…what’s the plan then? Are you giving me custody to take care’ve her? Is that truly what you want?”

She leaned forward in her chair, gaze intense now. There was a seriousness, a sadness, in her eyes for Dusk. In choosing to fake her death she had enabled herself the freedom to see all of her children grow into adulthood: the idea of losing such luxury, watching any grow from a distance, was something she would wish on her sister. Though the serial killer statement might need some more reading into.

“I’m sure you’ve spent hours giving this thought again and again, but I want you to take one more night before you give me your answer. Because if I agree, if you ask me to do this and the lies break and I have to tell her she’s mine….you won’t be able to tell her anything different. If you do she won’t believe you. I don’t want you to lose your daughter, Dusk. Think on it, please – think on any other alternatives I can give her – because if that’s the only lie I’ve got left to give her…I’ll make it my new truth.” A sad smile hovered on her lips. "Though 'Gates knows what Jesh'd think if I have to tell him he's a father again."