Atka ran a hand through his long hair as he stared in the mirror. He hoped he could fool everyone into thinking he was Desna, or else Desna would be in huge trouble.
Eska had slipped quietly into Desna’s room (or what used to be Desna’s room, she supposed) and sat down on his bed, itching to pick up a pillow and hold it
{my brother is gone my brother is gone he left me}
but at the same time not wanting to draw attention to herself.
She watched the other boy carefully, this boy who was not Desna. He could never be her Desna. He could wear Desna’s clothes, he could comb his hair like Desna’s and walk like Desna and speak like Desna and tell the whole world he was Desna, but the thing he could never do was be Eska’s brother.
He wouldn’t remind her to eat, or brush her hair for her, or hold her during storms until the flashbacks stopped. He wouldn’t be able to help her survive public events, or to support her when others tore her down.
Desna did this. And Desna had left. All that Eska had now was this boy.
{give me my brother back}
