Back to back, paw to paw, there was nobody Shiva trusted more than her brother. Granted he had a silly name, she elected to call him through their shared surname. Moonpath.

There wasn't a day that went by that she was without her brother, even before she took the head of the clan. From birth to now, they were inseparable. And as a fighter, he was one of the best. Always fighting back no matter how many times he was knocked down, and she mended every wound.

She did her best, and for the longest time, they seemed unbeatable. Untouchable by anyone no matter the foe, no matter the odds. Even Xena and Jack and, before his passing, Tyrone, couldn't stand a spar with them. It was like a dream, and it kept both of the tabaxi happy and safe. It kept the clan safe.

But… all dreams must end some day. And what a rude awakening it was for the Moonpath twins.

It wasn't much different from the usual odds, six to two and surrounded, low on spell slots so resorting to her warhammer. Low on health so using his shield. It wasn't unusual for it to be like this, most of the enemies were bloodied and ready to be knocked down with at least one more good hit.

What wasn't anticiated. Was her brother moving in a last ditch effort to protect her from a surprise attack.

Hearing metal hit flesh, hit /bone,/ Shiva froze. Whirled when she felt him partially fall into her, and shake as she saw something black mixing with the blood from the wound. She didn't understand what overcame her, but it was… wild. Feral. Shock turned to anger in moments, and the claws came out. She hunched over her brother on all fours, growling softly and guarding his body. She was angry. /Furious./ How dare they hurt him like this, how DARE they look so damn smug and victorious.

Here's what she likes about magic. If you want it enough, you just /have/ it. You don't need words, or items, or movement. Sometimes it just bleeds through you from sheer will alone. And she could feel her goddess's connection, could feel the shared anger and dismay.

Nearly a dozen cubes of flame roared to life. She didn't know what spell it was, just that she wanted these monsters to /burn./ And while she could feel the energy leech from her body, she didn't care. She let them burn, blue eyes reflecting a violent purple until the flames died.

By then, she was huddled over her brother. Her dear brother whose eyes were already distant and glassy. Whose heartbeat was weak, fading. She didn't have any spells left, but she wasn't giving up.

"Hold on Snarf, hold on, I-I got you, it's gonna be okay, just stay with me,"

She was starting to tremble. The spell took so much energy, and she was afraid, fighting back tears, trying to find a way to pick him up without worsening the wound. She had just gotten her arms in a hold when a shaky, cold hand rested over hers. Her breath caught, and she looked at his face just in time to see a faint smile as he was meeting her eyes. She knew that look, and she didn't like it.

"It's alright, Sheev… it's okay. I don't blame you. At least… I got to keep ya safe,"

"Nonono don't do this don't you let go stay awake, it's gonna be okay, don't you fucking do this to me—"

She was fussing, and the tears were harder to fight even as she did her best to stabilise him. But. She knows. She knowa that black, foul-smelling mix is poison, is necromantic. Is going to stop her from bringing him back. She kept trying long after she stopped seeing his chest slowly rise, kept trying long after she saw fur and skin starting to bubble and cave to the toxin.

Hours later, she was found by one of the scouts in her clan, holding the necklace he once wore, sobbing over what gruesome sight was left of her brother.

One of the druids. Simon. He helped, to the best of his abilities. He was her closest friend and even then it was difficult to reach her in her state of grief. Her life was shattered, and it was only days later that the elder had passed and she had to take up the leader role. She was quieter, more self-keeping. But she appointed Simon, her dearest friend, to be her right hand man. To be her voice of reason.

But she was never the same. She never laughed. Never smiled. Not for more than a fleeting moment. This was it for her.

Reply · Report Post