οικογένεια. mary & kristopher.
Weak links, every living soul had one. A weak link in their personality and their history that when exploited, could bring someone down to their knees in a matter of mere seconds. Some would say that it was inhumane for Kristopher to search so ruthlessly for everybody’s weakness. He preferred to call it efficient. There was no time wasted in using much weaker tactics such as persuasion or even bribery, not when he held their heart’s most deepest desire in the palm of his hand, a fragile concept of a lifetime past in his hold, a small decisive movement was all it took to destroy one’s last hope for family.
Hope. It’s what pushed humans onwards, what they so often referred to as the light at the end of a dark tunnel, despite how cliche the saying had become. They praised its ability to see anyone through even the direst of times. It was a sweet notion to believe in until time wrung it dry, the scarlet ichor of a desperate reach toward optimism dripping on the ground below. Hope, it’s what killed them too often in the end, despite people’s claims that they could only expect the worst, they still hold on to the smallest hope that perhaps things would turn out for the better. It never happens and their last prayer that is seared on their tongues is the one that mangles the soul.
It’s hopeless, Kristopher had informed her time and time again. Her brother was dead, wiped off the plane of existence, his soul perhaps hovering between the greedy clutches of heaven and hell. She didn’t listen and Kristopher tired of wasting needless words on trying to get her to abandon her last desperate reach towards a family that she once had. Perhaps he wasn’t so cruel then, if he at least tried to aid her instead of immediately recognizing the opportunity in her frenzy to find her brother.
The winds trickled through the full summer trees, leaves brushing against each other and sighing softly as the breeze passed. In between combat training and their occupations, it was refreshing to allow the seasons to sink into weary bones, cushioned by the grass the two lounged on. “You have so much faith in finding your brother again but you won’t do it alone.” He seemed distracted, more intent on plucking the blades of grass out of the ground than holding a conversation. “I must admit there are some things that I can not do alone either. It would be a fair trade, wouldn’t it? If I were to help you find your brother in exchange for your service and skills. You’re a talented combatant, Mary,” A fact learned after suffering bruises and sore muscles after training. “I could use your help as well.”
