Angiss - Part IMature

Powerful. Immortal. They are the Gifted. Those who have not seen them deem them myth. Those that have, consider them a dream. Yet even these beings have legends of their own.

“I’m so mad right now.” hissed Angiss at her sister Sulafa. “Are you mad? I certainly hope you are mad, ‘cause you should be mad!”

The light from the small fire danced in Angiss’ brown eyes. The elf girl scratched the thick scar on her left cheek in irritation. She pulled herself into an upright sitting posture and continued picking at her scars, this time at one located on the back of her neck.

“An, if you don’t shut up and let me sleep, so help me Sentinel, I will shove you in a foxhole, just so you can have something to be mad about.” muttered Sulafa curling up, beneath her heavy leaf-colored cloak.

“Ha. You have difficulty finding your own big ass in the darkness.” sneered at her younger sibling Angiss. “‘Sides, if you could catch anything different than colds, you wouldn’t need me to find food every time.”

“No sis, if I could hunt, I wouldn’t agree to cook for you every day. Then you would have to cook for yourself and the last time you did, you literally killed the dog.”

Sulafa abandoned her attempts to fall asleep and sat cross-legged in front of her sister. She yawned and stretched her stiff fingers towards the fire between them.

“That’s not fair, Sul. Snuggl’puff was freakin’ old.” huffed the older sister.

Angiss eyed the other woman’s golden curls, subconsciously tugging on her own choppy short hair. Even with a bed head, her sister looked way more attractive.

“He was five-years-old and adorable!” retorted Sulafa with a doleful smile, which quickly turned coy. “Besides, I can catch something that you can’t!”

 Sul scratched a scar on her right wrist reminiscing.

 “Oh, and what would that be?”

 “Men.”

 “…Bitch.”

Both of them burst into laughter. They loved having verbal duels. They generally ended when one of them resorted to an insult.

Angiss’ laughter abruptly ended. She grabbed the short bow lying next to her and with a swift roll, she left the fire behind her back. With rapidly adjusting to the darkness eyes the elf stood up, readied her bow and peered into the night.

Sulafa carefully and quickly reached for the dagger strapped to the small of her back, yet she didn’t draw the blade. Her sister possessed far sharper senses, however, she had the tendency to overreact.

“Identify yourself.” said Angiss quietly.

Her searching eyes were still once more, fixated behind Sulafa. The younger sister turned her head to follow her older sibling’s gaze. It took her a moment before she managed to spot the silhouette crossing the tree barrier around their little camp.

“The name’s Gart, Gifted.” answered the tall elf. His frame was several times bigger than the sisters’ and he was wearing a similar cloak to theirs that failed to conceal a greatsword.

He casually lifted his hood, revealing a triangular face with a strong jaw and very light brown eyes. His eyes shifted between Angiss’ cheek and Sulafa’s wrist.

“You two must be the Stigma sisters.” Gart took a spot by the fire. Disregarding Angiss’ drawn weapon, he placed his greatsword on the ground besides himself. “It’s a pleasure.”

“My name is Sulafa and this is my big sister Angiss, both stalkers.” replied the younger woman between two yawns. “Try not to get your head ripped off. There are only a few hours till dawn, I intend to use them.”

With those words Sulafa stretched her arms, curled up beneath her cloak and dozed off. Gart’s eyes slightly dilated in awe. Angiss wrinkled her nose in annoyance and reluctantly set aside her bow and arrows.

The End

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