#arsonya

I believe the Anonymous person is the ‘Shit writer, shit person.“ They don’t even use those writing skills they say Eko doesn’t have to explain their reasoning. No proof, no truth.

I’m going to answer this a little differently, since Eko doesn’t remember much (or really any) of her past. Ironically, were she to have her memories of Arsonya, she would likely view her as perfect since what she remembers is this little girl that just always managed to hold her together without even trying.. The strange part about this is that Eko and Arsonya have met again, but neither realizes they are sisters. Now, as an adult, Arsonya has gotten involved in drugs and contract killing. My, how time can change a person.

I’ll assume this one is for Eko.She is ashamed of several things, as far as her own wants. Right now her most shameful desire is the lust she has emerging for arsonya, since she can’t seem to decide if she really wants the woman or if it is simply the attraction of the risk and the… illegal things, they take part in, together.

"Fine!"  Her shriek was almost feral. It was ripped from her throat with such fierceness and her edges were frayed with the discontent sewn of defeat. It echoed through the hallways and Ekosira's skin puckered, the sensation of a shiver building over her arms but it never fully came. Her father's words were low, but she could still hear the acid in them. Warnings were worn in the sharp way he enunciated his demands and all she could do was wait.  Fear clutched her young heart, and she swallowed the scant saliva in her mouth, a vain attempt to soothe the dryness in her throat. Though she knew Arsonya was there, she couldn't bring herself to run to the girl. She couldn't bring herself to stand in the room that'd become a battlefield and watch it all unfold. Something in her knew that she'd catch Talira's scathing eye, and even the thought of it caused her courage to shrivel. She stood near the door frame, peeking around it cautiously as she stood on her toes. Brows were painted into a soft expectant and anxious quirk as she waited to see when the little blonde girl would return to her side, where a painful vacancy had been left that none could fill. 

The clatter of rattling picture frames echoed after the slam of the door. It grew quiet, and for a moment she'd forgotten that she was holding her breath. The flesh of her lip was pinched nervously between her teeth and she was suspended in that moment for what seemed like an eternity. It was a swirling mess of dreadful expectation. She'd lost the ability to feel herself in that moment. Though she stood with feet on the ground, she felt utterly without balance. Tumbling without anchor, her clenched fingers trembled against the cherry shaded wood. Every little noise had her on edge. Each time the house creaked or shifted, she leaned a little farther forward, chest braced against the frame. 

"Sira?" 

Time. What did it mean anymore? All she felt within herself with the acute pang of emptiness that’d come to be as much a part of her as the hollow thud of her heart against her sternum. She lived, and she desired to keep living for the purpose of finding her again – even if only for a moment. To spy her face and to know that she was well, that she too still survived the slicing of their bond. Ekosira had become a live wire, exposed and sparking with want and need for the other half of herself.

Kydrine and Solen would argue from time to time, but they grew hushed around her now, not wanting to destroy whatever thread kept their daughter from completely losing herself to the all-consuming void. She’d heard more than they probably knew, and though she only felt like a fragment of herself, her love for her mother grew for the crusade she had started on her daughter’s behalf.

You have to talk to her, she’d say. You have to make her come back, she’d plead. We have to work something out.

Solen wasn’t much of a father, but if ever there was a time he had tried for something, it was then. Despite Talira’s unpredictable nature, and the way she drifted through life as some volatile parasite, he had searched for her. Often times, tales of her would reach him in his search, but she always seemed to be just ahead of where he was. He’d always had such little patience, but for once he kept on trying.

Is it possible to experience withdrawal for the simple presence of someone?  Arsonya was gone, had been gone for days now. It was an adjustment that Ekosira was ill-prepared to make. Waking up in the morning without her there was difficult. In her sleepy haze, she would reach one hand over to her sister’s empty spot on the bed they once shared, and when her fingers were met with nothing, ice crawled up her digits and slowly burrowed into her chest. Suddenly, the beating of her heart was painful, pumping poison resentment and shards of sharp sorrow.

Many days came and went in this fashion;  she’d lost count. Kydrine continued about her tasks the way she always did, but there was no denying she noticed her daughter’s distress. It bled into the air through her empty stare and the dull tone of her voice when she was able to pry words free.  Attempts to engage her in conversation were mostly fruitless, and something about the girl looked as empty as she felt. She’d become a fragile husk of herself.  Eventually, her responses became nods or shakes of her head, because words cut her throat raw and welled tears in the corners of her eyes.  It was the acute feeling of genuinely missing someone, of mourning.

They tried, oh they tried. Kydrine would pass her fond touches and sometimes pull the girl into her lap. Eventually, she didn’t bother with conversation anymore but she never gave up. Even Solen attempted to console his daughter, having noticed her deflation despite how little time he spent at home. It was plain he wasn’t certain how to handle such a thing. It curled his lips into a defeated frown when she wouldn’t even look at him. His frustrated growling sighs solicited steely looks from his wife, at which time he would make his way out of the room without another word.