"Shut your mouth!" Agrippa shouted with anger and shame.

"Is it not your fault that this curse is beset upon us?" Anatiella replied, ignoring her brother's vicious threat.

"Am I not the one, who gave us a home? Am I not the one whos soul has been torn by the very spirits of our greed and desperation?" Agrippa slid past Anatiella's question in a desperate attempt to turn the conversation in his favor.

"It is true indeed that the agony of your labor and the sweat of your brow, has granted us homestead and bread on our table. But answer me now, the question I have asked thee."

Anatiella agreed with Agrippas statement, neutralizing his act of defense, and returning the ball to her court.

"I mourn, every day, the lives I have taken, the children I have left orphans, the wife's I've left widows. Bestow not upon me, this burden that knocks on my door and craves my life."

Anatiella softened by the burden of her brother's voice. And thus she withdrew her act of self-defense and accompanied Agrippa in his sense of grief.

"Everyday I mourn over our brother's death. How he has fought for us, and left pain only for himself on the fields painted red. And it is with great respect that I hold towards you brother, a sense of pride and honor."

He embraced his sister's soft thoughts, but deep inside, hid away rushed an a notion to the surface, and with it, carried the cynical analyzing spirit that lived inside him.

"I thank you for your kind words, sister. But do not think your charm can undermine the undisputable hatred I hold against you, your petty morality is a disgrace towards the family name."

Agrippa went on the defensive, attacking his vulnerable sister with words of cold rock.

"Please be seated in the knowledge, that my heart buries itself in feelings, unknown to that of a warrior like yourself. Do not question what you do not know of, brother. My charm is not more powerful than that of thug, only a heart blackened with the blood of fallen men can perceive my voice as that of an angel of death."

War, war had painted Agrippa's life, and as a hymn of his sin, his sister defended her cause with unjust backtracking.

"Do not mix the burdened past with the enlightenment of today! For I know what I have done, I have tasted the cold steel of the blade, the smell of bronze, plated with death."

"Spare me your recalling's, brother. All your life you have strived for honor, but it has been your demise. And shalt it punish thy soul for the rest of all our time on this unforgiving soil."

The siblings, argued away, staining their fallen brother, buried deep in the most beautiful of roses, the greatest of golden chainmail.

"I must halt you now, brother, and retract from this argument, my deepest hatred towards your actions. And bring forth, a cry of compassion for our fallen one."

Anatiella hinted towards her resting brother, saying a prayer as the sun gave a glimpse of the shining armor.

"If I may say, does he not look at peace in this humble bed of wool? Like a rose stroking the beautiful summer fields."

"In heaven he shall find true happiness and escape his haunting past. For the angels above shalt see his golden hair, and his flattering frown, and beset upon him the greatest of love and joy."

Resting upon his woolen bed, did he hear their words of gold and silver. And in his soul he cries over the fights raging in his siblings poisoned hearts, over the small things in life, not worthy the attention of one's common sense.

"Why do we fight, brother? Is our minds not troubled enough by war and death, that we must look past the hatred we both share?"

"In none of our known worlds can I repress my uncompromised hate towards you sister, but as the circumstances will have me, I shall quench my anger."

And with a forgiving look upon Agrippa's face, came serenity. And from his stance did he lay a kiss on Anatiella's brow.

"Without words shall I leave you now. To relish in the obscurity of your own diminishing life."

And without further did she leave her brother in the room that darkened with the passing of every second, every minute, and every hour.

"Brother. In my heart shalt thee live forever. And in my mind will you forever be remembered. You spirit will forever haunt me, for I have not done you well. And for this I am sorry, but I hope that the scars upon my chest, the blistering of my face, and the weakness of my legs and arms. Will grant you peace, and lay past the vengeful memories of my treachery. I love you, my brother. But I must leave you now. For death's beast calls me, and it is without doubt, I shall grant him my life."

And with a stroking of Agrippa's hand upon his brother's hollow chest, did the world cry. Misery and death is upon us, but shall we find peace in ourselves and our neighbors. Shall the world see past our mere differences and call peace, and happiness to us all.