Dabble could have best been described as an agent of disorder.

It wasn’t malevolent, but it was persistent. Like most torrents, the best choice was to drift with it rather than to struggle against it. She wouldn’t drown you, but she would tire you out, if you tried to resist her whims, or when she got something into her brain stronger than a whim.

Dabble was both fiercely independent and hopelessly clingy. She greatly disliked being told what do to, and would put up a wall of resistance at even the hint of direction, but would also expect to be included in everything that happened. Wtinerwing did not know if that was how every little sister existed, but he assumed so. She was an ever-present shadow that had followed him around for as long as she was capable of doing so. The age gap had not slowed her down, and neither had any attempts to apply common sense.

He recalled the adults in his life had considered her trailing presence harmless, perhaps even cute, but as it progressed into adulthood, it got more awkward. She didn’t hate Teal, rather gave a frosty reception–-metaphorically, most of the time, literally, one time that Teal’s unmentionables had ended up in the freezer.

Teal, likewise, didn’t hate Dabble, though was a little baffled by the entire situation, as an only child. There was eighteen or so odd years of history there, that Teal could not quite grasp, and the interactions that resulted between the siblings were so fraught, that usually she had to wait and have it all explained to her after the fact.

Dabble and Teal actually had a great deal in common. They existed at the same level of constant, vibrating energy and enthusiasm. They went separate ways in how they decided to channel that attention, but had they actually taken the time to sit down and talk about it honestly, they would have likely realized their mutual drive. It was unfortunate, then, that neither of them could ever sit still.

Maybe he should have been more forceful in his delineation of personal space. Dabble, the shadow, decided she would follow and go to Metro for school. His mother insisted it was meant as a compliment, and there was no reasonable way in which he could have disagreed that it made more sense for them to share living space than to make her live on her own. It made their parents feel better, as if he was actually capable of protecting her from anything–--as if the majority of Dabble’s trouble didn’t come directly from Dabble–--and it made Dabble feel better, too.

He would not admit, at the time, that it actually made him feel better as well, because it was a vulnerability he was not yet ready to admit that he had.

Winterwing couldn’t quite recall the occasion of the morning the girls finally chose to collide. It was a good morning prior to that, though. The smart glass of the room was set to become translucent as the sun came up, letting in the light slowly. The sun caught in Teal’s hair, and it shimmered and haloed around her face, and however long that moment actually lasted, it was not long enough.

The first indications of the rest of the world sneaking in were his screen bringing up new notifications. Then Teal rolling over and yawning, realizing that she needed to be across town, and picking up clothing from the floor. He scrolled through messages while she made herself presentable, and took his turn when she exited in the name of breakfast.

He would hear the argument as snatches of dialogue through a door and drywall, and then as bits and pieces later from three different points of view. He wouldn’t even remember specifics, because the content of the argument was not important. Dabble wanted to spend her time in school learning game design, and Teal found it frivolous. It was hard to compare building a virtual space, no matter the amount of programming and artistry, that to the grandeur of terraforming an entire exoplanet. Both were building something new and unique, but Teal seemed to find her choice of career far more merit-worthy.

At some point Emily stepped in, and ushered Dabble out the door. It was not settled, and nothing was fixed, but it was enough to cut it off before it escalated, and before he was even fully dressed.

Dabble’s summary of it would be “I don’t care.” Which was a lie.

Teal’s summary would be “I just think she can do better.” A familiar phrase. Dabble spent her entire life being told that she wasn’t meeting expectations. It didn’t sit well with him, though, because every time it was meant as encouragement, and it yet it never was anything but scolding. He would have a hard time squaring that cruelty with the image of Teal’s perfect bare shoulders wrapped in his sheets.

Emily would pretend not to remember the conversation at all, when asked days later and he found a moment alone with her, shrugging it away and trying to change the subject.

When pressed again she sighed. “It’s little warning shots. They don’t like sharing you.”

Which threw him for a loop entirely, and he found he had absolutely no response.

“What?” she asked. “Oh, come on, really?” She gave his hand a sarcastic condolence pat. “You’re like, Dabs’ favorite person, and Teal expects your attention constantly in that weird way girlfriends do.”

“Sharing me, like I’m a toy,” he said, flatly.

Emily grinned. “Are you not?”

“Don’t I get any say in this?”

“Nah,” she waved dismissively. “They’ll work it out. Just treat them fair, step in if it gets nasty, and don’t get angry about it.”

He stared at her for a moment, trying to gauge the sincerity of her voice, but she seemed genuine enough. “Do you have any siblings, Emily?”

“No,” she said, just a little too forcefully.

“Then where does this sage wisdom come from?”

“My mother was the world’s greatest example of familial fractures. If there was someone she hadn’t estranged yet, by the stars, she would set that right.”

Winterwing had grown up among a massive number of cousins, uncles, distant but always nearby relatives, and a few hangers-on that were in no way related to anyone in the family, but more or less were honorary members. There were a ridiculous number of Flashblades about, or at least enough that any large event had three people slapping him on the back and declaring the last time they’d seen him, he had been half the size. It wasn’t necessarily functional as social structures went, and came with its own level of dynamics and annoyances and weird grudges and misadventures, but to his knowledge, there were no large rift in any of it. His great aunt and uncle had even separated years before he was hatched, but remained legitimate friends afterwards, both as welcome at family gatherings as anyone else.

In all the time that she had spent living alongside them, he had never seen any hint of Emily speaking to anyone or seeking out anything from before. A family could certainly be two people, he would never have been so callous as to say otherwise. But, somehow that seemed… lonely.

Emily must have caught something in his body language, and answered his unspoken question, shaking her head as she did so. “I don’t know where she is.”

“Dad?”

“Ha!” she scoffed. “I’ve had two or three or none of those, depending on how you’d like to count. Not really stressed about where any of them are, if I’m going to be honest.”

And he sensed that it was time to leave it be. “What do you think of Dabs’ career choice?” he asked instead.

“What? I don’t know-that wasn’t-I mean I’m not really into that sort of thing,” Emily shrugged. “I think it’s a lot more work than Teal is saying it is though. Math and shit.”

“‘Math and shit’,” he repeated, amused.

“I think she’s eighteen and has the rest of her life to change her mind if she’s wrong,” and then with an exaggerated gesture. “Surely she can conquer any hurdle with the support of her big brother.”

“And Teal?”

“Hmm,” Emily said.

“Oh, good.”

“Was this one of those things where I wasn’t supposed to give an honest opinion?” she asked.

“I can’t tell, yet.”

“Have you guys had a big fight?” Emily asked. “Like, one of those stupid big fights that starts out about laundry on the floor but is actually about having kids?”

“That’s oddly specific.”

“It’s an example.”

“From your mother.”

“Oh no, that one was mine. Guy was an asshole,” she leaned back in her chair. “But, he was only an asshole after a while.”

“No,” he admitted, “nothing like what you’re describing.”

“I’d say get through to the other side of that fight and see if your new relationship with her is still what you want.”

“I don’t really like the assumption that there’s going to be one.”

“People fight, dingus. It’s not intentional, it’s just a thing they do. It’s not bad unless that’s all you do.”

It felt like a cynical outlook on life, to insist that people were inevitably going to come into conflict.

But, there had been plenty of arguments between him and his sister. He had argued with his mother after the accident, and then his father for upsetting his mother. His parents had argued, had argued so often before Dabble was even a possibility, and he had been too young to understand why, and he had been happy to pretend he hadn’t witnessed it.

Maybe not entirely cynicism, then.

Emily must have seen his expression again, because she shook her head again in mock pity. “If it makes you feel better, I can picture a future where the both of you are surrounded by dirty laundry and screaming children alike.”

“Lofty goals,” he mused.

“They all have cute, terrible names like ‘Gunther’,” she said.

“And you, Emily, where are you headed in all this?”

“What, me? Oh, I’ll probably drink myself to death next week or something,” she winked. “Don’t worry about it.”