05.02.3014: Sibling Therapy
Summary: Ephraim receives a call that he should check in on his younger sister…
Date: Dec 31 2014
Related: Black Skies Over Honor's Keep
Cyrielle Ephraim 

Hut, Honor's Keep, The Vale
See log.
Friday May 2 3014

Honor's Keep is a lovely place. In some ways, moreso than Beacon. Beacon has that wild edge to it from the jungle and the feral nature of The Spine. Honor's Keep has been changed into being a tame place of pleasure. Lagoons boast those enjoying the place as an escape from the rest of the world and those rehabilitating from injuries gained in the fight against the Hostile threat.

There are huts nearer the rehabilitation facility and this is where one could easily know to find Cyrielle Hollolas. Especially since, as her preferred family member — Ephraim — on file may have been alerted… she hasn't left in a few days and has put her therapy on hold.

Thereapy on hold or not, Ephraim has indeed received the alert and find time to go visit with his sister, if visitors were allowed. Then again, with therapy on hold, any such recommanded restrictions might be lifted anyways. Making his way through the pleasant lagoon like environment, he heads for the huts nearby where he would find her. Instead of invading any privacy, what limited privacy there might be in such a hut, when he nears the hut she is in, he'll call out towards any open walls/doors/etc. "Cyrielle … sorry, I'm late .. I should of visited earlier, but with the storms and all." Which means other preoccupations, perhaps said infrequently by him for excuse regarding being out to sea longer than usual. He'll pause as he nears the hut proper, to make sure she responds and is receiving visitors.

It's a voluntary sort of rehabilitation. Visitors are more than welcome- perhaps even encouraged. Afterall, more tourism can do wonders for the Ligonier holdings. The huts are more small cabins than anything else; just fitting in with the rest of the area's look and style. The one Cyrielle is residing within currently lies dark, despite the brilliant sun without. Shades pulled closed and no lights showing from within.

No answer is immediately forthcoming, but when it does; it's not a vocal one. Instead, the woman reaches out with her Awakened senses to her brother's mind. Ephraim? A pause, wonderment the initial emotions, but beneath… she's a torment of things. Self-loathing. Guilt. Depression. What are you doing here?

The door looks a bit singed near the handle. It's unlocked.

Reaching a hand out curiously, pausing at noticing the marks near the handle, Ephraim considers opening it, but stops and decides to respond instead. His own mind curious and inquisitive, concerned. I heard you were in the neighborhood and I figured I should sieze the opportunity for a chance visit In reality, and its not a hidden emotion, he just wanted to see that everything was going well for her during this rehabilitation. His hand touches the handle finally, I'm not interrupting am I, I can come back. It tests the handle, but doesn't open the door.

It's not locked and will open quite easily- if he does try. Should he glance within, the place is in shambles. Broken furniture. Broken lighting.

No… The guilt increases when that initial wonderment fades. Depression, really, overrides it all. Eph, I- Her voice, even in his mind, is full of pain. Almost suffering.

That seems enough, the door is tried and the shambles are taken in by Ephraim. But its all ignored, instead he looks for Cyrielle, "…. glad to see me, yes, I know you are, that's why I came so soon." He says, finishing her sentence in a completely random context. "I'm glad to see you," and that part is honest. "I'm not too late, am I?" While it could be a joke about missing whatever happened previously, its really hinting at asking if he should of shown up sooner, to be here for her.

The woman herself is seated against the bed. She looks ill. Eyes are dark and sunken. Skin, made tan by her time at Honor's Keep has a pale hue to it. Her clothes — a tanktop and shorts — are rumpled and have the look of being worn for days. Cyrielle does not look healthy and hale as she has the past few months. She looks old and worn. There is a long, angry scratch on one side of her neck and welts — some with dried blood — upon her upper arms.

The room is a mess. The lights are all shattered. Some of the decor destroyed. Desk and a coffee table: destroyed. The bathroom, visible by the door lying open, has had its mirror shattered.

The white fades from Cyrielle's eyes as Ephraim enters, her aura fading. As the brown returns, it's ringed by red. Her face is equal parts puffy and hollow from crying.

Moving in, Ephraim comes near the bed as well. "Well," he begins slowly, drawing out the ending of the word. With a turn, he begins to sit, moving for the floor next to her, to lean against the bed as well. "I have good news and bad news," he says, his arm naturally going out and around his sister, as if he might give her a noogie, but instead he just starts to hold her. "Bad news is, there will be another day tomorrow …. good news is, the world hasn't ended, there will be another day tomorrow." Turning his head slightly in her direction, he continues, "I'd ask what all happened, but really, I don't think it matters. I'm sorry I didn't come sooner Cyri."

The woman likely doesn't even remember putting his name down when she checked in and gave the therapists all the initial information. So to her, it's a strange apology. Still, Cyrielle leans into her brother — one of the constant pillars of support in her life — and the tears start up again. She ends up turning in towards him, wrapping her arms about her elder sibling. There's no liquor bottles about, but if he looks, he'll see signs of other- AMP, primarily, but some lesser drugs as well. Enough to be nearly dangerous, depending on the timeframe they were taken in.

As he gives his other arm to the embrace, Ephraim takes that tally of things about the room. What's left what might remain, still, knowing what she she has gone through, he also isn't one to judge. That she is here now, its a good sign and that's not so important to him. "I can't take it away," he says, whatever pain she might be feeling - physical, emotional, otherwise. "Just … I love you Cyri. I want to take it all away, put everyone in a happy world, but I can't, I don't have that power. I wish I could, especially for you sis."

It takes a moment for her to take it in. The comfort, his words… and to get past the initial bout of tears. Cyrielle practically clings to Ephraim, shaking her head slightly before just resting it against his shoulder. "I fucked up big this time, Eph," she murmurs. "He… he went through all that trouble for us and… I let my fear get the better of me."

The initial arm he hugged her with stays firm, reassuring, but Ephraim lifts the other to brush at hair and tears. "We all make mistakes," he says, knowing its a given response. Using it to progress, he continues, "What is it, what'd you do to him?" He could assume who she means, the important person in her life right now, and yet, he restrains himself. Perhaps to be safe, perhaps to let her tell him in her own way. His mind doing its best to avoid and judgements, his concern keeping its focus on his sister.

"I… I fucked someone else." The worst and most difficult telling has been done. And Cyrielle's not one to keep secrets from Ephraim. She thinks he may understand- hopes he does. "I was… I thought Nitrim was going to leave me. I thought he was trying to pull away from me and…" It's too much to continue though and she just ends up burying her face against his shirt again. It'll be tear stained- there's no way around that.

Its a nice shirt even, white and clean, loose with a large open v-neck even, but its good at soaking up the tears too. Ephraim isn't worried about his shirt. "The someone else," ponders her brother, "Its, that doesn't complicate it does it?" No telling who the third is, but if its another noble or someone prone to get emotional if Cyrielle wants to make amends somehow to Nitrim, it would be good to tknow that. "And Nitrim, does he know?" His arms and comfort suggest he knows, or understands. He'd been in nearly the same boat even recently himself when a former sleeping partner showed up while he was with Lorelei. "Well, that matters, but it doesn't. What about you Cyri … if Nitrim isn't pulling away, do you want him still?"

"It… I don't think so." The third isn't prone to emotional connections like that, no. And she doesn't think Nitrim's fury would be any more or less. Cyrielle lets Ephraim support her. It's a good feeling, it's a relieving feeling. She's been unable to eat or sleep; she's weak. Her voice is strained and cracked; voice breaking at times. "He knows," she says, barely above a whisper. "I… I couldn't keep it from him."

That, at least, shows how sincere she is in her misery. How much it pains her. "Oh, Six, Eph… I would do anything to bring him back. Anything… anything for him to love me again. To not hate me."

"He," begins Ephraim, again slowly, letting his thoughts form. "He might be a possibility still. He might need time, time to think about it, time to decide. I hate to say it, and I know its not good to hear, but it might need time to settle." As in, don't rush off, or run after. Much the advice Balius had given to him once about Lorelei. "That day I was pretending to throw knives with him, he thought you were a little distant then. You're worried about him, he was worried about you then. I think," the hand brushing at her cheek and hair holds a tucked strand behind her ear for the moment, "I think you're both nervous about what going forward means because its like that final step, that growing up thing. You're both serious and it might scare you both just a little. All serious things are scary I think." As if realizing himself a thing, then he offers more quietly, "I can talk with him, if you like, go look for him?"

There's a choked laugh as Ephraim brings up the day she'd been distant- or seemed to have been. The day he later brought her gifts for her birthday. "I was just exhausted," she manages in that wry humor. There's a small nod, however, as Cyrielle processes his words. His advice.

She's smart enough to see the truth in it. On multiple levels. At the offer, Cyrielle leans back and picks something up off the floor next to her. It's an orb, with a viscous red liquid within. She turns it in her hands slowly. "He's… he knows how to not be found when he wants, Eph. I… I would like you to, but…"

"I'll send him a message, if he wants to talk with me," returns Ephraim, "His call, I'll send the message, give him the time." His eyes go down to the red liquid, but his hands stay on her for the moment. "That's all we can do there, but that's not my worry so much. Its you. Whatever comes from this, I don't want to lose you." To drug, or worse. "It was a mistake, I'm sorry it happened to you."

Swallowing, Cyrielle gives a small shake of her head. "You won't lose me." She may have remained steadily drugged for days, but she's smart about her dosages. There's an art to keeping a steady high. She folds her hand around the orb, drawing it in close against her abdomen. There's a small nod. "He… he thinks of you as a friend. Don't ruin that."

Siblings may come first, but her love for the Khourni still burns strong. "He needs friends." She swallows, glancing up towards the room. There's another, broken sort of laugh. "Ever caused this much damage, Eph?"

"No, I don't plan to ruin that, we all need friends," in a world like this, Ephraim thinks the latter; all things considered, like the war. Given her question, he turns an eye to the damage as if taken it in. A short laugh is given, then a pause, "This is definitely in the running for most trashed room. In fairness, alone, I can honestly say I haven't caused this much damage. Not knowing all of father's exploits, this might be pushing the family record for damage caused by an individual though. However, since I wasn't present to witness the claim, I cannot verify for record keeping purposes that you were indeed the sole constituent to this damage. But, as you're my favorite sister, I'll overlook that small detail." Another squeeze is given to her with both arms, "But, if you plan to do more, I think another exit would be nice, in a wall."

There's a soft snort from Cyrielle as she looks towards the door. The inside is more singed than the outside. She leans into Ephraim now, just taking comfort in his presence. It's a bolstering thing. She feels somewhat stronger already.

"Does causing damage by proxy count? Other than the mess…" Of drugs, cast aside clothes… "the property damage is Nitrim's… But it's my fault it happened." Damn, maybe she doesn't win the record.

"Eh, Nitrim …" he says, taking in the total again now. "I suppose, it does count, all thigns considered. Besides, damage … it probably could of been worse, I'll give the situation that much." That is, considering its Nitrim and it probably happened when he found out. Ephraim nods lightly, maybe trying to consider what was what, but then gives up, he has no real way other than speculation to determine anything really. "Also, its great, being this dark and all, but its a bright day outside, you should let some sun in. And, I'd hate to be the one to comment," meaning he doesn't mind at all, "But a shower might do you some justice."

Joking aside, his loose hand comforts again, "Of all the mistakes, it sounds like a grand one indeed Cyri. I'm glad your managing, just, you know, you don't have to do it alone. I have more shirts you know." This one being soaked with tears.

"It could've been worse," Cyrielle agrees, in a morose tone of voice. In a voice that says she almost wishes it had been. It would've shown more anger than pain. She might hurt less. It's a selfish thought, in a sense. The woman glances towards where sun tries to inch around the drapes. She grunts slightly. "Don't wanna be in the sun."

It's a rather petulant thing, but she knows the sun will help her feel better… and she doesn't want to feel better just now. There's a glance, of puffy, red, and dark eyes towards Ephraim and she reaches to tug slightly at her top. "I… I should. Maybe eat, too." She hugs her brother tightly again. "Thank you, Eph."

Ready to comment on eating and food, Ephraim takes the hug instead. "You're welcome," he returns, though he means more than that, family - he'll be there without her thanks, but he's glad she acknowledged it in that moment. "Just tell me there is a little booze left, I could use a drink is all." He doesn't stop hugging, not yet. "Then, I'll find you some food, keep you out of the sun until you're ready. See, I can respect your wishes. Just, if I get too much booze I might take up the spirit of the destruction and add a sun light."

"There might be," Cyrielle murmurs, squinting into the dim shadows of the room. She reaches back under the bed and after some shuffling — hypo, broken light, another hypo, empty bottle… — she surfaces with a bottle that still has about a third of its contents left. This, she passes to the other Hollolas.

"If you add any destruction, I'm gonna forward the bill to your account instead of mine." It's a threat, done in her usual jest. She's recovering, at least a bit.

Taking it and taking a swig, after the cap is removed and left to the mess on the floor (assuming it still had a cap), Ephraim offers it over, just in case. "If that happened, you couldn't deny I helped at least," a grin, then slightly serious, "So, should I tell anything to the rest of the family, let them assume what they want, or just avoid them for now. I can keep them away even if you like?" Half a grin crawls at the corner of his mouth, "But, just so you know, if I ever step up to take some heat away, after this, its going to have to be something really big."

"Just don't tell them anything," Cyrielle decides after a moment, tilting the bottle this way and that. She finally takes a good, long drink for herself before handing it back to her brother. "Let them assume. Likely you've paved the way well enough already. I'll settle the bill on my account, talk to the Ligonier's directly. Maybe it can avoid the news too greatly, y'know?"

She draws in a long breath, leaning her shoulders back against the bed as she looks towards the ceiling. "Fuck. I might need a sabbatical after this."

Taking the return of the bottle, Erphaim nods casually. "That, but after this, the news might take a Hollolas sabbatical to mean something else all together." Lifting the bottle, a pause, "Actually, that might be amusing, if they did." Pouring some in and giving it a swirl, he holds the bottle near a knee, such that she is welcome to take it if she feels so inclined. "You talk with the Ligonier's, I'll see what the news says about this. Maybe, if their is a lounge nearby, I'll see if there's any reporters that want some scoop, maybe feed them something misleading if you like."

"I'm re-learning to walk and use new weapons… I could easily let word out that I'm going back to my druidic roots for a time to study more," Cyrielle decides, reaching for the bottle for a quick swig. "There's lounges a-plenty. Dunno how many reporters you'll find though." She's still holding the orb, squeezing it into her off-hand.

"What sort of misleading? Don't go affecting things with Lorelei."

A light chortle from Ephraim, "Nah, she's on my good side, I'm trying to get her on the family's good side too, but I'll settle with it being just mine." A shrug then, "Not sure what sort, maybe I shouldn't run with rumors on the fly. Any good bands around these days that would want some publicity, I could say I invited them, didn't know it would get out of hand. That sort of misleading, not the kind that gets me into real trouble." A shrug though, then he looks more at her, "If you do go back into the woods, you'll let me visit right?"

"She's still convinced I hate her, isn't she?" Cyrielle says with a dark frown. "I don't. I just… think maybe sometimes y'all dunno what you're getting into." She rolls the orb in her hand slowly. "And her brothers are worried, too. They talk to me about it." There's a small shrug and the youngest Hollolas exhales at length. "But I'm not one to offer advice, am I?"

She draws her knees up to her chest, resting a hand upon the shin of her cybernetic limb. "If I go back, it won't be forever. Just long enough to do some rituals… figure things out."

"Still, would be good to see you more," offers Ephraim, "And don't be silly about the advice, if we're being honest, we only give good advice from the outside looking in. If this was my situation," the room, the third party involved, the fireworks, "I'd have no idea what to do and I'd probably run right over to Lorelei to try and make it all better, which would probably serve to push her away. But, if I was in the situation, my mind would be too clouded. I need your perspective, you and her brother Balius, the one that actually talks to me, its been helpful I'll admit."

"Ha! Chiron's a butt, isn't he?" Cyrielle doesn't admit she does want to run to Nitrim. To run and beg and cry and bend over backwards. It's only fear and a bare, frayed thread of logic that keeps her in check. "We've talked a bit more. He gets angry at me because I see Bey more often than he does. Or at least I did. I think they're all nuts sometimes, Eph." This is said with a bit of a smirk. She starts to shift forward, to slowly get to her feet. "Howabout you go find us some food and I'll get cleaned up?"

Laughing himself, "Chiron is a bit of a butt," responds Ephraim. "I think the rest of us are all nuts. They have this weird sense of family, its not just something your obligated to, but born into like it was some destiny. They all want each other to succeed and yet, no one wants to give up on the childhood the remember. They're moving away from their parents and their stables, but they think giving up on their past is giving up on their family." Then he moves to get to his feet, maybe faster, so he can offer a hand to her, "Food it is, I'll get something easy on the stomach too. Save some cleaning for me, I won't mind helping at all."

"Yet another thing our mother did when she abandoned us, eh?" Cyrielle snorts somewhat, accepting Ephraim's help to her feet. She wavers slightly; the lack of food and sleep has taken its toll. "Don't get me wrong… I love you, father, Irvy, Dylan… even Fiona, but it doesn't bother me that I barely know her."

Perhaps it's the training some nobles go through. Being assigned to different ships, in a Hollolas' case. Or her own time away in the forest for most of her teenage years. "Ha, you think I'm cleaning up this room? Not yet. I'm gonna get myself cleaned up first."

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