Sponsor and Family and Unclosed Wounds

Whoever said trusting your gut is a good idea was a filthy liar. Yew had eventually crept down from her roost, enticed by the rich scent of cooked meat and other delicacies spread out on a vast table near one of the greenhouse walls; placed within sight, but tastefully distant from the dance floor. Several round tables floated around a set area close by like drifting lily pads invisibly anchored, perfect to hold plates of food or drinks. The white cloths set over them fluttered in a way that reminded Yew of the ethereal flow of a wraith’s shroud. Yew had descended the wide stairs and made her approach easily enough; mouth watering at the food she knew she would find there.

The problem arose when she was distracted filling up her plates with all the delicious things she could get her hands on. She only wished the beef were a little more rare, dripping red with delicious myoglobin. Alas, it was not to be. The dessert table also drew her eye, but Yew preferred to eat meals in order; regular foods first, then sweets to fill in the gaps. She must have been too focused on appeasing her stomach, that’s the only explanation for how she could miss the calling of the one name she’d been looking out for. Otherwise, he never would have been able to sneak up on her.

Yew jumped, halfway to choking on a bite of zesty roasted chicken, at a hand placed on her shoulder. She swung around, reaching for a staff that wasn’t there, and paused at the sight of her patron. His usual wide grin smiled down at her, somewhere between a cheshire cat and a conman. Blood red hair curled atop his head, artfully arranged; not one single aspect of his countenance out of place, save for one top button of a white silk blouse left intentionally undone. She glared into dark gray eyes, mood ruined; Yew hated him, just a little. It was like he didn’t even care.

“Yeeeewwww, your fabulously wealthy and handsome older brother is here to greet you and here you are, attempting to burn holes in me with your eyes.” He pouted, voice in a faux whining drawl. Yew peeled his hand from her shoulder, disgust scrunching up her face, and dropped it to the side.

“Lord Heliot Arbor,” Yew bit out, “good evening.” Yew performed her best mockery of a curtsy, intentionally worse than she would have attempted for any stranger at the ball. Given Yew’s proclivities, she had more than the physical awareness needed to place her feet funny and bend her knees. “What brings you to my side so soon? I’m sure you have friends around that can entertain you.”

“Ah so cold, my little yew,” he rubbed a white gloved hand over where Yew thought his heart would be if he had one. “Come now, can’t I check on you? I hear you haven’t been home much recently, your parents are worried.” Guilt spiked through her chest, she crossed her arms and stared off to the side. “They knew the ball was soon and asked the ever so gracious me if I could send word of you, and of course, I agreed. I could never refuse such an earnest request.”

“Oh? Then what about my earnest request for you to leave me alone and keep our contact at a minimum?”

“De-nied,” he enunciated with far too much cheer.

“And, as for not visiting home, I’ve just been busier recently than usual, that’s all.”

“That’s all, huh?” He raised an eyebrow at her in blatant disbelief.

“That’s all,” she reasserted.

“If that’s true then you’d better respond to at least one of their letters instead of just leaving them in an unopened pile like you tend to.” And so begins the nagging. If she let him start he would make a fuss about her diet and sleeping habits next.

“Why do you care what I do or don’t do, anyway?” She snapped at him to cut him off; she wanted to finish their obligatory interaction and move on with the night.

“You know why, Yew,” his expression softened, tender, but a smidge bitter at the edges. As if his feelings were rolling honey and citrus rind across his tongue simultaneously.

“Do I,” Yew challenged. She wanted him to say it. Hated that he refused to.

“Yes,” his own voice teetering on anger before catching himself. “You do,” he finished, barely audible. Dark gray eyes sought hers out, sorrow searing into her and collapsing the world all around them into an endless field of falling ash and memories Yew could never forget. She tore her gaze away in the silence between them. Her hand clenched the skirt of her dress, worrying wrinkles into it that only escaped notice because of layered coloring of the fabrics.

Heliot looked away too, towards some spot on the floor, eyes unfocusing as he tried and failed to keep a congenial smile on his face. Yew swallowed, took a deep breath, and felt a wave of all the nasty awful things she had been avoiding wash over her. It was so tense in that ashy world and suddenly Yew desperately wanted out of it. She hated his unaffected grin, but she hated this more. It sat heavy inside her and reminded her too much of her older sister’s disappointment. She pursed her lips, tensing and un-tensing her hands, grasping for any thread of hope smooth this over.

“I completed your task,” she rushed out. “Here,” she floundered a moment to pull a folded paper from the secret pocket of her dress, “all the best cafes in the city, ranked and personally reviewed, as requested. Although, seeing as this has nothing to do with runes I’m not sure why you asked for this. Surely, you could have a servant or that aid of yours do something like this.”

He took the paper from her, smile returning in force, and barely glanced at it before shoving it in his own pocket. Just like that, Yew was back to being annoyed. She had spent a lot of precious time on that little errand of his that she could have been spending on her research.

“Excellent, I have to do something to make you earn your keep,” he teased, back to his typical infuriating self. She growled at him.

“At least pick something relevant to my field of study or skills. Can’t you just ask me to fight a ghost or something?”

“Sorry, no can do, your parents would kill me if I put you in danger like that. Bad enough that you do it yourself, but they know they can’t stop you. As for rune successions and evolutions, or whatever, you know I don’t really get all that stuff.” He waved it off, as if that wasn’t already more than most people tended to understand about her work. “You know, Yew, you wouldn’t have to do these little tasks anymore if you would just say it,” he leaned in.

“What?” She eyed him with great apprehension, knowing from experience that she would hate any suggestion that came next.

“Come on, call me big brother again, like you used to,” he pouted at her. “If you would just say ‘please, big brother, fund my research’ you know I’d bankrupt my entire estate in a heartbeat.” Yew recoiled from him.

“Ew, no, you have your list. Go away now, I’m eating.” She gestured to her neglected plates of food. Heliot sighed, mumbling something about bratty sisters that care more about food than family. She held back the urge to reject him completely, imagining briefly the immense hurt such words would cause him. He was obnoxious and too much and she hated him, but not that much; not enough to stomp on whatever shriveled husk existed within him as a heart. She turned away from him.

“Fine fine, I can see when I’m not wanted, don’t forget what I said,” he reminded and meant more. He turned to leave, taking only a single step before hearing her response.

“I won’t,” she said and acknowledged more. “I’ll send a letter home soon, promise.” And she would, even if she found the weight of their concern hard to bear.

Yew couldn’t see the look on his face, as if a piece of the world had become his alone. A priceless gift placed upon his hand in the form of bridging scars.