Myiir

"Think of it like a, ah, transponder," Myiir said. Even in a conversation between two people in a secure, remote location, the lanky creature kept his eyes and hands moving like a nervous tweaker. Kiire was soundly unimpressed by her brother's sudden appearance, much less the pushiness he brought with him. She supposed it was his norm, albeit a sickly and pathetic one.

"Myiir, every single ******* time you ask me to 'take' something of yours, it ends up being a goddamn catastrophe that I have to tidy up afterward. How much is it going to cost me to get you out of my life forever?"

He clicked his tongue in a self-satisfied, mocking way. "Depends, my sweet darling sister. We don't do normal lifetimes, remember? We're so much more than that, so I'll tell you: you can get a mortal's lifetime away from me if you just take this box and put it somewhere no shifty, clever little fiend will find it."

Kiire considered her options, and foolishly she tried her luck with a challenge of her own; "And if I refuse?"

She expected his immediate, instantaneous response: "Oh I'll just kill you."

"You're not even wearing your own body, *******. What are you going to kill me with? I'll erase this entire block before you put your disgusting hands on me."

He could just about see her eyes flare when he proceeded to 'tsk, tsk, tsk' her. "Kiire, Kiire, Kiire! What good would that do? I mean, sure, yeah, you'll destroy this little suit I'm wearing. But I'll always find you, because you're family and I love you. And the next time I find you, I might not come in a fancy suit. I might bring something uglier, something you will very much dislike. Alternatively, I could turn you into gold, since you like the stuff so damn much."

Frustration licked at her internally, a dying flame, but Kiire instead raised her head in a show of defiance. While usually eager to engage in petty verbal jousts with hated adversaries, Kiire did not have an immediate counter ready for her brother's threat, owed mostly to the fact that she knew he absolutely could--and would--make good on it.

Myiir rapidly tapped his fingers together, over and over again for no other reason than to fill the space between them with sound. His sister had so finely tuned her body that she was almost entirely silent, even in motion. Her vanity, to him, was a pitiful learned behavior, yet it was hardly the point of their exchange. He knew he could leverage it. "I can turn you into a grotesque wolf-man, too."

She made a sound of utter revulsion and swiped a hand through the air as though he were an illusion she could dispel. "You are unbearably disgusting and so are your idiotic pet projects. What are you going to give me in exchange for keeping your stupid box?"

"Um, well," Myiir smiled so broadly his lips seemed pulled just thin enough to crack apart, prompting another 'ugh' from Kiire. "I'll kill Neyon for you."

"Really."

"Mhm."

"You're going to waltz on into Drenquell's territory, and kill him? You realize you're already a hot topic over there, Myiir."

"Well," he laughed lightheartedly. "You make it seem so simple. I mean I'm going to abduct him first, obviously. I feel like a point-blank execution won't give me the closure I so, so deserve. Don't you think, Kiire? That I deserve closure?"

She took a step back without consciously realizing it. The way he had asked that, how his voice went from a playful dismissal of the impossible to a strained, simmering desperation, tripped a silent alarm in the back of her mind. Before she could think to play negotiator, Myiir elected to elaborate.

"Oh, you know me, Kiire. I really need that closure. I have so very much I need answered--like why you were the favorite child, and why he obsessively stalks you while spurning me. He's always done that, you know, to me specifically. It's like I don't exist to our father, but Kiire, this plan of mine is going to force him to finally acknowledge me. I will be seen. I will be heard. He will acknowledge me."

"Okay," Kiire exhaled, not even realizing she was a second away from choking on her own words. "Right, sure. But I'm not getting involved in this. I am not about to pick a fight with the most powerful territory in the system."

"About the response I'd expect from a small-time dictator, but sure, whatever. I just need you to take the ******* box. Put it somewhere no one's going to find it, and keep it hidden forever. Do you understand?"

His crimson eyes bored straight into her soul. A small, well-buried part of Kiire felt a shameful--yet indisputable--sense of dread. She resented the urgency forcing her compliance. She resented her own unpreparedness. She resented Myiir. And the worst part of the entire situation, she knew, was that whatever designs he had set for their father would not end with their father. Kiire knew he would pursue her next.

"I got it. Drop your **** off and get out, Myiir."

Content, then, with their exchange, Myiir closed the distance Kiire had created between them and brushed her cheek with his thumb before she had the mind to smack his arm away. "Such a sourpuss. Don't worry though, I'm sure we'll be seeing a lot more of each other very soon."

Impulsively, she lunged forward with every intention of throttling him. Yet before she could even attempt to register it, the man before her had dematerialized and vanished without a trace.