These photographs mean nothing,

The smiles of Warwick had disappeared, leaving the stoicism of Maral, and the uncomfort of their mother. Teodora would visit sometimes, and yet that same smile would looked pain, drenched in a sadness. Demise was over-taking, and Faust took a deep-breath as she ventured toward her siblings.

A smile.

Uncanny to their mother, a learning that of perfection to do a smile such as she does, and show that.. That everything was fine, even if it wasn't. Although lonely in this world, Faust knew she wasn't completely alone, not without the same littermates who too, felt the same thing. Although it brought the question why she, kept on the defense of attacking.

"Hey," Faust said, as she approached her siblings in the den, smiling in a frosty-warmth, "what are you doing?"

One among them was gone, but there was still three.

---

either @Selwyn or @Weirs, or both!

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Everything that had happened had taken its silent toll on him. Although he survived, unlike some, he felt unease like he had never known before. Times had already felt tenuous enough in his head before, what with a growing understanding of the beliefs of their family and all that entailed, but Seaver's death with everything that followed it had really hurt him. To have it be the fault of poisoned water from their very own streams was just the personal insult, he couldn't help but feel.

Blinking awake, he lifted his head and turned toward Faust's greeting. “I'm awake,” he answered back, although just barely was generous. He wasn't doing anything except dozing off. Lately he was more distant than ever. He worried about them all, and he didn't want them to worry about him as he feared each drink of water randomly killing him one day now. It was getting better lately, but still. The effect lingered. Weirs had tried to not let much of it show but most of all, was still struggling to return to full energy after his own narrow brush with the water illness.

He hoped more time was going to help this all go away, although it still pained him to envision a normal without his other brother in it too. As for now, he arranged himself better for his sister, sitting up--and willing himself to wake up, too.

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Weirs was the sibling she felt closest to, and her smile felt genuine when he woke up. She approached and brushed his shoulder lightly, "I think mother said that the waters are safe now, at least the ones away from the river. Wanna go?" She could see his energy was lessened, the same mood that affected all of them with now the absence of their brother. Her gaze momentarily looked at the sleeping area he was with, and the imprint that there was, was now.. So empty, she felt her heart pang, and that near-sobbing that choked Faust just for a moment, before she swallowed, and smiled with a shake.

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Out of anything and everything, time between his littermates was the easiest. Weirs did his best to warm up to the pace Faust was setting with this in mind. She seemed in good spirits, so he would have to catch himself up. When she reached to brush his shoulder, he aimed to nudge her back with his own muzzle. He beat his tail softly against the earth, too.

His ears splayed as he listened to her proposition, concentration heavy on his features. True... their mother did say that it should be better, and normally, before all of this, that was exactly up his alley. Now he hesitated at first, but for his sister and after a second to regroup, he did concede with a tiny nod. “Yeah I'll go...” With stipulation. “The most away ones,” Weirs affirmed carefully, maybe for his peace of mind, then started to get up onto his own feet--as ready as he was going to be today.

He needed to get out there, refresh himself, and feel better entirely. Maybe he rebuild some of his lost strength while he was at it. After all, the young Déorwine was narrower than he had been and he did not want this to get worse, desperately determined not to end up like dead, buried Seaver.

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She nodded, agreeing with it. Even though the mention was it was safe, the young couldn't forget the same waters had caused their brother to be buried within the ground. His funeral still fresh, and they could even visit him if they so choose ; but she wasn't ready, and doubted any of her littermates were either. It was a cross feeling as the two would be rather close as they walked to find some sort of river, far, far away from the main one..

This one looked fresh.

Faust voice cracked lightly, "how are you feeling?" there was a lot of ways to ask someone, but she didn't know the fine-line of 'building up' to the big question. Instead asked a matter of factly, a rather.. Cold smile given, one that was cracking lightly be the pressure of a sadness, but Faust tried to mimic's their mothers.

She had to be okay, she reminded herself. No one else would be okay for them.

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Their path carried them along, away. Weirs appreciated the motion, the distance, and the company all at once. His ears did slip back at her question. Wearing the same dark humors reminiscent of his father, he answered on a heavy sigh: “Not dead,” then sniffed towards the nearby waterway. As suspected, or perhaps promised, nothing rang as suspicious to him but he still didn't know how else to summarize an answer. “Maybe better,” he elaborated with and this time, he looked at his sister as he spoke. “It's still hard,” the earthy boy went on as he studied her carefully. They were all in a unique position, one that only seemed increasingly highlighted the older he grew. They often found themselves needing to fight a little harder for their piece--seemingly.

It all left a sour taste in his mouth, not unlike their once-poisoned waters.

Though he turned away from her, back towards the waters' entire focus, he left an ear tilted her way as he tried to lookout for fish. Weirs wondered how Faust was truly doing, how this strange weight of everything influenced her going forward.

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"We'll survive." For a moment her face had dropped as she looked at by nothing ; a deadpan of expression that turned to a moment of hatred. A gaze that looked into the waters, a memorance of.. Everything, and the knowledge that some reason it continued to happen to her, and the repeated dread that surrounded the whole litter ; bad luck, after bad luck, and she wondered if the white that was upon her chest, was truly the reasoning.

A paw dipped into the cool waters.

Because she knew it wasn't.

"We'll survive," Faust said, turning to Weirs with but a confident smile and turned toward the direction his own blue's were going to.

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He let his sister's assurance sit there quietly a moment, mulling it with a downturned look of his own. We'll survive, and it sounded so very easy. “We'll survive,” he did eventually agree in an echo of sentiment. They would have to, one way or another.

“I want to be strong...” He almost said again, but as hardly more than a whelp before sickness and grief stripped it of him, it had never truly been his to possess. Not yet. But as a narrow, growing frame, he was feeling the absence of what could be--or should be perhaps. Better strength should help them survive, right? He didn't want to be frail, sick, or cursed even. Any strength he would accept, and could make use of it at this point: here near the bottom. “But yeah. We will survive. We have to.” he said firmer this time. Weirs would keep the words close, and he would try to make sure of it. Maybe it was getting to be out of spite at this point.

But like many things, it would all take time. He moved along so he could fondly brush shoulders with his sister, and then dipped his toes further in the waters, willing himself not to hesitate as he searched out the right pebbles for the best footing. He knew once he settled, it would all feel good--just like it had before. Thankfully, the current was a distraction in little time, and soon after, streaks of underwater silver caught his eye.

Coming here was the right move.

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"We are strong." Convincing herself or him? A resolute voice sounded out almost within an anger that caught herself in surprise ; but she was also resolved that they were strong. They survived within birth, they survived as the Queen's bastardly litter, and all the attacks that came — although, Seaver didn't survive it. The waters that came, but only she so far suffered the paws of the endless swarm of hostilities within this south. Danger, and more danger.

But she was here, smiling.

"..Do you believe in the High Elk?"

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Weirs liked to hear it, and wanted to feel it, too. His nod was small, but present. He hoped their day would dawn soon--that things would stop beating them down, so that maybe they could enjoy some of that strength for themselves.

As to her question, he fanned out his ears and glanced to her smile. “I do... I want to,” he replied, quietly, in an honest share between his most trusted sibling. But there remained a doubt in his tone. He feared it might not be the best path for him, sometimes, when already--where was He when so much was so difficult? A part of him, deep and dark questioned what was there to gain in his light for him except scorn, just because of something so trivial as a color. Life had already taught him that it did not come easily, so why make it worse trying to appease where he already had a disadvantage?

Then again, maybe it was His will that he survived at all. That he even existed, marked in white or not. He should be grateful for this much, right? The life experience for a real answer was not there yet, and Weirs had a long way to go. “Do you?” he returned to her, a curious look back that would press no judgement. Not when he was not exactly feeling the most pious lately.

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"Sometimes." Faust admitted in truth — there was days she questioned and days she prayed. A god, a diety, a guardian to the Deorwine ; but for some reason a cursing to those of other colors besides thats of the blessed brown. However among them all, the litter that was brought, was not so touched by that love, all except that one brother, so stricken with a more orange-tone, it was a wonder who had sired them all. Barely any of them looked like their mother, Faust thought, and part of her was curious to who that famed man might be. The concept she knew of, but no name was ever brought.

She knew in her heart if she asked, Celnes would never tell.

"I don't know if it's the same as our mothers though." If there was such a God out there, such a diety given, the High Elk.. It was hard to truly believe in so. She didn't want to believe the same High Elk she prayed to was the same as their siblings, as their mothers and aunts, and uncles.. The one that calls them cursed.

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Sometimes, she said and in truth, Weirs found a great, secret solace in this answer. It aligned well with what he was trying to convey for himself, he thought, for sometimes he did carry belief in his heart--and he wanted to feel the faith fully. Hearing her feel similarly was a weight off his worries that came much needed. As he listened on, he let his focus wander off the water for a moment longer, digesting what his sister mentioned with a furrowed face.

When doubt threatened to cloud it all away, maybe that was where his uncertainties lie--that his vision of the High Elk may not match the one his mother saw, perceived as the utmost visage of their strength. Maybe there was some type of disconnect in him that made him think this. He had never thought about it like that before, but his sister brought up a good point. Faust's answer had him mulling already, looking at this in a different light now, albeit a new one; he would have to stew on this piece properly. “Maybe... it is different,” he spoke quietly, a small suggestion and a look on his pale visage that hinted at his interest in the idea. “Or it can be,” Weirs added. I might like it more if it were... Imagine, a High Elk without the demands that only seemed to alienate.

“I don't think that's a bad thing..” he added. But countercurrent with the notion, he licked his lips and peered back down to the waters again--he realized it could be against what they were taught, somehow, to just pick and choose the pieces they liked, and to create their own vision of Him. That alone could be an insult, perhaps, but there were technicalities here to explore, and Faust had opened a passageway with this.

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She would like it more too if it was different. When Faust looked at Weirs and saw his white, she could see her own dipped snow-tip tail with the same coloring. Similar so, could almost be dubbed as twins in the way their unholy colors were matched, but there was still subtle differences that remained away, and only light siblings in the mix. The mix of the Queen and a sire they would never know ; but what was clear it was awfully different then their older siblings. Those who took on the holy colors and a few who didn't, but the frosted Deorwine never seen Vermillion, or even Aldritch. Faint memories of one when was younger, but she had long been gone to Greenwood. There was only Maral.

"Has our older siblings ever.." she mulled over for a moment. Although it was true she was attacked, Faust was a bit less willing to admit such vulnerabilities, and what are the chances like how she was close to Maral, they were close to the others? There was hesitation, a wondering and asking. She wanted to know, "what are your thoughts on our older siblings?"

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Listening patiently, she drew his attention towards their siblings with the following question. After the hesitation on how it was phrased, the open-ended nature left him curious about what prompted it. “Warwick and Maral are good to me,” he replied readily. He admired his older brother, and hoped his travels would return one day soon so that he might see him again--plus maybe even get to hear about what he had seen in the vast wilds beyond their woods. His sister, too. She seemed to be looking out for him, and certainly had been when the waterways had made so many of them ill. Plus it was not lost on him how out of all of them, Maral looked most similar to Faust. “The others... I don't have a lot to do with them,” his ears splayed with the admission, but it just was what it was. Some didn't even live here, after all. “Seems best that way.” Honestly. He didn't get the impression they had a lot of love for him based on whatever brief encounters he did have. And, there were others he could enjoy more--like Teodora.

Whether he avoided the older siblings, or they steered clear of him, he didn't care to discern exactly. It might as well be a bit of both at this point. He got the sense he was different from them and not only because of his coloring, and he was not strong enough to change their minds. “Has.. anything ever happened...?” he asked her, trying to finish the first question she had started to pose. Good or bad, but something about what life had taught him so far leaned towards the latter.

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They were the only siblings good to them. Faust gazed to the water, her tail curling and ears twitching as she hummed in thought. He was strange — she deducted so. The way he held with warmth and nobility, a strength of a King then that of the wickedness of a Queen ; at least, that's how she thought one would reign otherwise. He was very much unlike their siblings and their mother, endless smiles and comfort without an ounce of mistreatment or intolerance, like he didn't care despite such teachings. Was it that because they were taught to guide those with white, that he was looking upon them, or was it truly his heart? Naturally she felt it was in the best nature to doubt because everyone else shown true thoughts of scorn..

Maral was like them, so perhaps she didn't want them to fall into the same path. They were.. In a strange situation.

"Be careful of Edith," Faust warned her brother as she looked over to him. She couldn't say much of their other siblings, such as Calhoun, Rohesia, Vermillion, Aldritch, Melrose.. But she was very, very certain about the brown sister with red eyes. The eyes that were the same as that man ; the eyes that were like of sin and blood. A small hatred was forming of so, and wasn't sure that'd it disappear with time or otherwise.

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Faust did not appear to disagree with him any about Warwick and Maral, and really, he was not surprised. Maybe her experiences were similar enough. As he let that set in, he skimmed over the waters again, and breathed out another slow sigh. A lot of the fish he had seen come halfway into potential reach so far were pretty small. Not really worth getting wet about even but he liked to see them anyway.

At her warning in way of an answer to him, Weirs slicked back his ears. Though she physically said little, he immediately got the impression it went deeper than what all was spoken. Something had surely happened. She wouldn't feel that way towards Edith specifically if not. “I will,” for he trusted Faust wholly, and whatever it might have been that inspired such a warning, that was the takeaway. He frowned, despite appreciating the head's up, and knew that they must look forward. They already aspired to survive, and him to regain his strength so that he might amount to something; Faust's ambitions were surely her own, too. “If.. anything else happens with her or any of the others, you'll tell me?” he asked spoken low, half a request and half suggestion that his icy sister may not even want. For her, and for him both, maybe they could benefit. Despite there not being much he could do about it now, he still wanted to know about it if harm was coming her way... and he would do the same.

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"..Yeah." Although Faust was starting to grow troubles with trusting others, she often forget she wasn't alone. She was soley focusing on thriving by herself and slinking through the forest that the memories and realization of her brothers was often forgotten, where she scooted closer to him to feel his fur next to her own. Both children mildly neglected, looked down upon by their siblings alike, and the few that still paid attention to them..

It was better to tell him, now that Seaver too was gone, and could not share their hardships of the white-stains on their bodies.

---

fade?

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On her affirmative, he nodded slow--somehow a bit relieved, but quiet besides a soft hum beneath his breath. Thank you he willed her in silence before he went back to staring at the water. He held onto the belief that maybe it could benefit them somehow, and maybe they would just have to make it happen that way. Something deep wanted that to be true.

After that, the siblings milled on around the creekside, then eventually beyond into the woods when they had their fill.

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