jezi & impa
bay & black blanketed sisters of the peak
In the morning, when the cold sunrise washed everything in a pale light, Jezibelle sighed and took two steps away from her sister. “You can keep it,” she said, staring disinterestedly out over the barren landscape of the Peak.
Impa’s gut tightened. “Where will you go?” she asked in a low voice. Imp lay at her feet, curled up in a loose ball and sleeping heavily. Dark clouds hung in the sky and the black mare could smell snow. It was a sharp scent, more sensation than odor, and she snorted. Jezibelle flicked an ear toward her, then glanced over at the older draft.
“Tinuvel,” she said, and pressed her lips together.
“For how long?”
Jezibelle shook out her mane and turned her head to the right. “Depends.” Her voice was dead, as it had been when she first spoke of Kisei’s death. At least she no longer trembled at night, or hid from the sunshine. Impa suppressed a sigh. Her sister no longer quaked in fear, but she did spit and quarrel with Imp as if the two were sisters instead of a mother and daughter pair. Sometimes Jezibelle even turned her sharp tongue on Impa.
“Will you come back?” she asked, and reached over to nibble at the coarse strands of her sister’s black mane. Despite Jezi’s uneven, bitter temperament, Impa still loved her. They were sisters, related by blood and from the same parents. It was an unbreakable bond that guaranteed affection, and she was surprised at how much animosity hung between the bay mare and the chestnut filly. Family was family no matter what. She had never stopped caring about her father, even if she had held a grudge against him, and despite not knowing her brother or sister well, she loved them, too. Nothing would change that.
“Depends,” Jezibelle repeated. She stepped away from Impa’s reach.
“Jezi,” Impa said to forestall any further movement. “Before you go—” she glanced at the filly at her feet. “Will you tell me what happened?”
The bay mare followed the direction of Impa’s gaze. “That? That’s not important.”
Impa looked up, and her good eye lingered on the long, dark face of her sister. “She is important. But that’s not what I meant. What happened to our father?” she asked, and Jezibelle faced forward again. The bay mare began her descent down the mountain and Impa pitched her voice to carry. “What happened to Kisei?”
Jezibelle paused midstep. Impa watched a smile stretch her black lips. “I’m going to find our brother,” she said. “Perhaps you should, too. It might do you some good to see him, and what’s been done to him. Maybe you’ll finally stop idolizing that bastard and recognize him for what he really was.” The smile fell from her face, and she turned her head to glare at Impa. “He always favored you, but even you suffered from his tyranny. Think about how those less fortunate than you managed to survive his violence, and be thankful he’s dead. Our brother did these islands a favor,” she spat, “and it’s about time you recognize that.” She moved forward with her ears flat and her steps heavy.
Impa watched her go. If Imp had not been asleep at her feet, she would have run after her sister and demanded an explanation. Jezibelle’s cryptic words made the black mare uneasy, but she could not leave the chestnut filly alone and she wasn’t sure Jezibelle would speak more clearly than she had already. After she had time to calm down, and if Mouse were willing to keep an eye on the young filly, perhaps Impa would follow her sister to Tinuvel and figure out what, exactly, happened to their father, and how their brother played into all of this.
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