#infinitepurgatory

In truth, she had only been moving north of the city into Quel'Danas. Things had largely settled, or so it seemed, but who knew how long that was going to last, and there were matters to consider. Once upon a time it had been somewhat customary for those of the Blood Knight Order to bathe themselves in holy light. Especially when proving one's loyalty to the cause. Although Ankalei had not been a member since her death, she had reunited with some who seemed to recollect her name, though perhaps not her service, and they had rather eagerly welcomed her back into the fold.

But that was by appearances only. She could never call herself of the order again unless she had proven herself worthy of the title. She had, more than once, toyed with the idea of embarking on that trip to the Sunwell, though she also knew that those like her ordinarily could not endure that. There had been a very real chance that she might have found herself on the receiving end of another death. One that she wouldn't wind up reanimated from.

Now with things as they were, there was no Sunwell. Not really. How did that change her plans? How did that change the traditions of the order? Would she actually be able to rejoin them? And again, if she didn't, or if she couldn't, what else was she going to do? What was there to do?

She supposed she could just continue her mercenary work. Offering a hand to the Succulent Tart when they needed it. Surely there was more to life (even her lack thereof) than standing at entry points, reminding people to mind their manners, checking weapons, and taking jobs from other people.

Ankalei had to admit that she might have preferred to continue down that train of thought than the present one that her crossing paths with her twin. A very, very alive twin. A twin who she struggled to sometimes not feel tied between a great deal of envy and a great deal of love and compassion for. If she had been a better person, perhaps she might have only embodied the latter.

It really had been a chance meeting. A literal bumping of shoulders. Ankalei decked in simple plate. Laeynna in something decidedly not plate. Each had turned and had surely meant to go on their way until recognition kicked in. Who knew how many moments had passed with the two of them eyeing one another.

Well. More like sizing one another up.

But Ankalei had always been the kinder of the two. The more sociable. The more open. The more vulnerable. She wasn't afraid to compromise, within reason, and she was considerably less stubborn than her immediate counterpart. "You're looking well." She took a moment to study her sister a little further, from head to toe. Pale hair was growing out. Much longer than it had been months before during the holiday season. Even her eyes looked a little different. There was, in fact, very much something about her that Ankalei couldn't quite put a finger on.

Then her gaze, blue as blue can be, fell onto her sister's hand and the rather impressive ring she wore there. "Very well, in fact."

And as if she had been nigh bitten by an asp, Laeynna's posture shifted. Almost painfully awkward and shy as she tried to modestly shield her hand from attention. Then she just as awkwardly nodded.

Ankalei sighed. It might have been easier if Andaeros was actually present. He seemed to know how to bring the two of them together. Ankalei tried and back when he'd been absent, she thought they were potentially getting somewhere. But somewhere along the lines, that all fell apart. Why? How? What caused it? She didn't know. Even trying to trace the points from one to the other, she couldn't figure it out.

"I don't think you have a reason to go hiding that," she began, lifting a hand and resting it to her hip. "If you're worried about not telling me before, don't be. I don't expect you to do that."

She didn't really have much in the way of expectations at all, except that her sister find some kind of happiness. If she could. If she'd let herself do that. Ankalei wasn't sure that she ever would, which... would have been a shame. Maybe that was hypocritical of her. Maybe they really weren't so different from one another. Laeynna punished herself for actions from her past and the way those actions and consequences shaped who she became. Ankalei punished herself for her own failings and thought that being reanimated meant just not living at all and that there was no point in living.

They weren't really so different, after all. She didn't know whether she should be relieved or disappointed in both of them. Maybe she could have been both.

"But, the not telling me thing does bring something to mind," Ankalei continued, her weight shifting a touch in the face of her sister's stalwart silence.

She didn't really know how to say it. Well, that wasn't true. She did. There was just no way to say it that wasn't... Well. It was going to sound mean, no matter how she said it. "Don't you think that maybe you've been..." Pausing, she lifted a hand and eventually gestured for Laeynna to follow her. "This really isn't the place for this kind of conversation."

"I do not really have time for this," Laeynna countered without skipping a beat.

"It won't take long."

She didn't know that for sure, but she only meant for it to be something for her sister to think about. Hopefully. She wasn't sure it would even land or register to her or that Laeynna would listen to her for more than a few moments. She certainly seemed like she would have preferred to be anywhere but in her twin's company. Maybe Laeynna couldn't be blamed for it.

That giant elekk in the room? It wasn't like they really ever talked about it. They glossed over it. Ankalei intentionally didn't bring it up. Laeynna was conflict-avoidant to the extreme. As she normally had been. And Ankalei worried she might be too fragile if she forced it.

With her sister begrudgingly following in tow, Ankalei led her off to the side, off of a crowded stone street and into an aisle that seemed relatively quiet. Once there, she thought she might have enough stalling time to figure out how to put her thoughts into words that might escape off her tongue. It was only when Laeynna cleared her throat to encourage her that she gestured somewhat absently.

It sure seemed easier to face the trial of the Sunwell, even in her state, than it was to face Laeynna. That was ironic.

"Are you going to say anything or are you just going to stare at me?" Laeynna finally asked, folding slender arms across her chest. "I feel like you are about to scold me for something. If you are, please just say it and get it out, so I can stop trying to anticipate what you are going to say and how I should respond to it."

For all Ankalei wanted to tell her that it was a little unfair for her to say as much, she refrained. Arguing with her would do nothing. It wouldn't make anything better. It wasn't going to help either of them. And in truth, Ankalei had no interest in fighting with her. None of this had anything to do with that. There was no malicious intent here. At least, none intentional.

"Well. I was just thinking," Ankalei finally began, thinking it was about as socially eloquent as she normally was. Which was to say not at all. "You've always been sort of... I know you keep things close to your chest. I don't think that's a bad thing. On the contrary, it's probably good, actually. But I do think maybe it's possible for you to do too much of that."

When Laeynna looked perplexed, Ankalei couldn't blame her for that either. On one hand she made it sound like a bad thing. On the other, she was in support of it. Of course it was going to sound like mixed messages.

Lifting both of her hands, just to pause any potential reply that might have come erupting out of her sister, Ankalei bought herself a few more beats in time. Just enough to maybe paint a more proper picture of what she was trying to say. "What I mean is that, while it's good for you to be protective of yourself, if you're too protective, that has the opposite effect. I don't think it would do you too much harm to be a little more open. About yourself. At least, try not to be too afraid to do that. You'd be surprised at what you'd be met with."

The change in expression of which Laeynna wore was somewhat seamless. A little confusion. A little annoyance. A little disbelief. But those were all guesses. In actuality, Ankalei couldn't read her sister the way she could when they were little girls. Back then, she was pretty confident she knew everything about her twin. Now she felt like she knew next to nothing and the only way for her to find out was to spy and eavesdrop. She didn't want to have to do those things. And she didn't want to try to force Laeynna to have a relationship with her either.

How much of her wanted to come to some kind of understanding for Laeynna's sake? Maybe it was more for herself. Maybe she recognised she didn't have much going for her and felt like she needed her sister. Ankalei could believe that. The less she had, the more she wanted to cling to what she did have. She had become so accustomed to having next to nothing, however, that just the idea of trying to soften the past had been enough to give her some kind of hope.

Now it felt like so much of that hope was for nothing. Almost.

"Should you not be taking some of your own advice?" Laeynna replied finally, as if she'd been thinking of how to respond.

Definitely felt like a good deal of that hope evaporated. Ankalei hadn't been interested in taking shots at her, but perhaps Laeynna wasn't of the same mind. Or maybe her sister had something else going on that she wasn't aware of. Even if she did, though—

"I appreciate the words of wisdom," her younger twin continued. "I do, but I think you have just as much to gain from taking it yourself. I also feel that until you take it yourself, you likely should not be putting unsolicited advice in front of me."

"It wasn't—" Ankalei shook her head, issuing an awkward, tinny laugh. "It wasn't advice. I'm expressing concern. As a sister ought to. I'm not saying you need to change your habits. I'm just saying... maybe bend a little. Not to everything. Not to everyone. I just don't want you..."

I don't want you to become like me.

That was a dreaded thought. Ankalei saw her own failings. She saw her own issues. She saw how she cut herself off from the world and had for years. And for a while, she thought Laeynna might not do the same thing. Except the more time passed, the more she saw Laeynna fall and fall and fall.

Ankalei steeled herself and she shook her head, "I want you to be able to live your life without feeling a sense of regret. I want you to actually be able to live. And I don't think you can do that, truly, until you open yourself up a bit. You work with plants, right? You learn the most about them when they're open. Maybe you're a flower, too."

Lifting a hand, she swept it from head-to-toe, "Don't deny the world your beauty or your ugliness. You'll find people who accept both and everything in between. Just... You know. Don't give up, Laeynna. Give people a chance."

Because that was really what it was all about. Not surrendering. Not buckling beneath the adversities she'd faced. In the words she gave to her sister, however, Ankalei found herself thinking on them. Maybe she needed to hear them, too. And maybe Laeynna had a point.

No. She almost, in fact, did. As she often did. Laeynna was far more intelligent and observant than she gave herself credit for.

Laeynna didn't have much else more to say. She didn't argue. Didn't really agree, but at least she wasn't gearing up for some other retaliatory comment. Instead, it felt like she evaded, which was almost like a point in Ankalei's direction. Because it meant her sister heard her. It meant that she had struck something there. Yet listening and hearing weren't the same thing.

In the end, when they parted, it was because Laeynna said she had somewhere else to be. It might have been true. It might have been false. Ankalei suspected it was a bit of both. Left on the streets in the grand city of red and gold, she was left with her words. With her own thoughts.

Surrender never had been an option, had it. Ankalei didn't know what more to fight for, though. She didn't know what she had. Where she thought she had a sister, she questioned that.

If she had been younger, more foolish, more naive, she might have preferred a distraction. She doubted that would work, though. Not on her. And she didn't want to go on some adventure with the Expedition. Not this time.

Maybe it was time for her to really eat those words, after all.

— @daily-writing-challenge

Durotar's red rock earth had probably never been comfortable in life. She couldn't say it was comfortable in undeath either, but then it certainly felt like most things weren't. Or she just wondered if she was capable of feeling at all. Wasn't the first time she'd contemplated that. Nowadays, it was less contemplation and more acceptance.

What a lonely, lonely place the world was. Existing in it and yet that was all she could do. She thought about the Order, how she'd considered returning to Quel'Danas simply to throw herself in the Sunwell and undergo the great bathing of the Light that her brethren had. She'd considered doing it before. Months before. Even before Zaihne had persuaded her to join him on the expedition.

Certainly, she'd helped out with their things. No different than she had in Durotar every time she performed monster population control or escort missions. She didn't get any feeling out of it, though. It was fine for what it was, but that was all it was. She didn't know if she felt that way because she didn't really believed she felt at all. All she did was go through the motions. Once again, muscle memory at its finest.

How many times had she laid there outside of her dilapidated makeshift home doing the same exact thing? Ankalei had lost count. There was no point in going home anymore. No point in going anywhere. No place to be. No place she really wanted to be. No place she was exactly needed. Certain she couldn't have felt it even if she had wants.

She was in the same place she had been. Nothing had changed except the date on a calendar. Every day was the same. Every night was the same. Maybe she should have thrown herself in the Sunwell. Maybe then she'd at least feel something except the hollow memory of what she thought was feeling.

Time had stopped for her and all she wanted was for it to continue. To go somewhere. To do something. Even her end, she suspected, was better than going through another day like the present one.

It was all the same. Ankalei wondered if there had ever been a point and she suspected the path was long since over and she was travelling through a barren nothingness. Somehow that felt fitting.

She was a barren nothingness, too.