Sarkiin spent the next few hours looking for ways to organically breach the topic. When Saryam finally decided to call it a night, Sarkiin fully committed to chickening out. They said their good nights, Saryam went off to her room, Sarkiin went to their Sulking Spot.
The compound they lived in sat at the top of a small mountain. The compound’s rear was at the steepest part of this mountain, and there was a balcony at the dropoff. All three of the residents liked to come here to sit and take in the scenery. They weren’t always here to sulk, but it was a cute little private nickname. And most of the time, like now, it was accurate. The sun had nearly set behind the treeline on the horizon. Sarkiin scanned the area until their eyes landed on a spot about 20 yards from the base of the mountain. There, they knew, was the location of a grave, marked only by an innocuous rock formation.
Sarkiin wondered what their sister would think of them now. The older one who was buried there, not the younger and still very alive one. Their mind was on the sister she was currently looking at. What would Sarmene think of how they’d grown and stuff? They wondered what she’d be like too. She always seemed to know exactly what she wanted. Would she want her siblings to be living this life, like she did? Did she ever think about a different life?
Mostly Sarkiin wondered what Sarmene did to earn the starring role in Elata's Wrath Show (working title). Like sure, the killing people profession was bound to mark you as the subject of a few grudges. But to hate someone so much it makes you want to kill them and their whole family was a bit much in Sarkiin's honest and objectively correct opinion.
None of that really mattered anyway. Sarmene was dead, and pretty soon Elata would be too and this little revenge circle could close itself nice and tight. Then Sarkiin could finally let Saryam know the whole truth about what happened to their family. She could know the whole truth about who her family was. And Sarkiin's heart could finally beat at a steady rhythm.
They had to be ready, though, if they were gonna make it through this raid. There was no telling what tricks these terrorists had up their sleeves. The siblings had to train hard and keep their senses sharp. There wouldn't be any more time for moping or wishful thinking. Now was the time for Sarkiin to hit the grind until they were rendered into some kind of weird flesh-powder that could fight more efficiently than all the other powders, who would be slightly coarser because they didn't grind hard enough.