Celebration Time

[Sören]

By now there was scant doubt that Dane truly cared little for his brother's demise. Sören watched as the man craned his neck to stare after a woman's retreat from the bar, and wondered why he had agreed to meet at all. Swirling the dregs of his glass, Sören swallowed and replaced it empty on the bar, content to leave the man to his night, when the first sparks of interest lit in Dane's eyes.

"I was there,"
he confirmed. Hunger edged Dane's questioning, and Sören felt like spitting on this mockery of brotherhood. Death was something sacred, and a good death should be glorified. But Dane's eagerness felt like rot on the memory.

He shifted, thinking. And considered not offering an answer at all. But in the end his lips quirked into a sharp smile, and his voice took on the cadence of stories told by fire side. "We were in India chasing an enigma. A lake of skeletons buried beneath ice and mystery - one we finally unravelled, with perilous consequences --"
a brief hand gesture included his clouded eye among them. "You would not believe the story should I tell it. Your brother made his mark on this world, and died for the honour."


He said nothing of the poison. Of the slack fear in Declan's face as he fell lifeless. That the scholarly curiosity Dane so detested had been the cut to snap his thread from this life.