Sibling Rivalry

[Omi]

"What're you tryin' to say, Mal?" she replied, looking taken aback. "Like - that's what this's always been about. We're fightin' here 'cause this is the only force in the galaxy that can stop those bastards. An' once it's all over, back home is where we'll go."

Shrugging visibly, she pushed the pudding away. She didn't feel so hungry any more.

"It's not like I gave up on Leeds - on home, Mal. It's just that there's - there's just nothin' to be gained fightin' there any more. We gotta look to the long term - watch what's gonna happen months, years from now after the Gauls're pushed out. Won't happen overnight - they've already seen to that. But after they're gone - well, who knows? Only God knows, I s'pose."

Briefly, Marisa shot her brother a glance of her own, though it was more concerned than angry.

"You needa get that cough seen to, though, or you won't be goin' anywhere." she declared, levelling her fork at him accusingly, like a judge passing sentence on a condemned man. "That can't be good for ya."

---

[Miaou]

He touched his neck with a hand, a strange habit he obtained from people commenting on his odd cough.

Malachy didn't quite believe his sister, and what she said strengthened his thoughts. He believe that the fight would be won and they would both go back to Leeds or Cambridge and live happy and full lives. A nagging thought about what a happy and full life is, and how it would never come to them was pushed back quickly. He didn't want to think like that. Worse still, what if they lose?

"Yeah yeah," he started by his sister's comment on the cough, "If you think everything's going to end up 'lright, then what? We stay in Liberty? Go back to Bretonia, to home? What of jobs, of careers and families and..."

Realizing he was over thinking again, his voice trailed off. Mal shuffled back and forth feeling weird about this whole conversation. He normally didn't talk about stuff like this. Normally, it was about stuff back on Cambridge or Leeds, the fun games they played, the stupid little mistakes that family pokes you on about. Not about the future, not about war and worse.

[Omi]

"We do whatever we want, Mal," she affirmed, her voice low. "Stay here, go back to Bretonia - whatever. That's what fightin' this war is all about."

Pausing only briefly to glance out the window, Marisa continued.

"I'll pro'lly go back home, though. To Cambridge. There's somethin' about Bretonia that just makes it- y'know, it's just home. I don' think Liberty could ever be home. Y'know what I mean?" She waved her fork around aimlessly, as if trying to gesture her words into more meaning. "It just... isn't. Nothin' here really feels homeish. Even the pudding is - well, it's not bad, but..." The pudding in question sat just out of reach, half-eaten and looking rather forlorn.

"An' if- if the worst comes to worst an'... they end up winnin'... well, you know- we'll have each other. An' what's more - the neither of us is bad at pilotin'. We can make our own way, no matter what it ends up comin' to. But they won't win - y'hear me?" she declared, twirling her fork between her fingers, a small smile on her face. I'm tellin' ya - they don't stand a damn chance."

---

[Miaou]

He smiled at his sister's determination. What she said spoke of truth. Home is wherever you make it.

Malachy dragged the remains of his sister's pudding to him. He wouldn't let it go to waste. "Thanks," he spoke before finishing off the dish in front of him, "Thanks for reassuring me." Not wanting to wait any longer, he dug his spoon into the dessert. Somehow, it tasted a bit sweeter than the previous.