The violent cacophony that sounded from the brightly lit kitchen resembled that of a box being unceremoniously knocked off a counter.  If it wasn't for the fact that it had ended in the loud yowl of a wounded cat, one would have imagined that that was exactly what had occurred; as it was, the angry hissing that followed, joined by a loud, feminine shriek, gave a hint of the more complicated drama that had just played out. 

Tabitha, evidently triumphant, went streaking out the open kitchen door, leaving her victim to snarl angry curses in Hebrew in the feline's wake.  Raizel scowled as she shoved her hand under the faucet and turned it on, letting the water run over the now throbbing wound.  The cut stung, but not enough to justify the way that her hand was trembling slightly.  The Cursebreaker gritted her teeth, taking a quick, harried breath as she fought back the sudden urge to burst into tears. 

This was not the way that the day was supposed to go.  She had come over to Akiva's early to help the witch get ready for the start of the holiday tonight, to free Adon so that he could finish at the office and then assist his mother.  Since Dreogan's kidnapping -- since that long, awful, horrible, terrifying night -- Raizel had done everything she could to support the Eleors.  It was the least she could do, even when it was all she could do.  Whatever happened, whatever price she would pay for getting too involved in this, for investing herself so personally and so deeply, she still clung to the idea that the eventual aching wound would be worth whatever salve she could bring them now.

But that did not include this wound, and helping Akiva tonight certainly did not include breaking down and sobbing simply because Dreogan's stupid cat had violently mauled her.  Raizel clenched her hand into a fist, pressing hard against the cuts in an attempt to stop the bleeding.  Her eyes stung, but the wound stung more conspicuously, even with the cold water running over it.

"You just wait, you little beast," she spat out nastily in Tabitha's wake.  She momentarily yanked her injured hand out from under the cool balm of the water and began groping on the counter for something to throw frustratedly after the feline warlord.  Scratch her, would it?  "They'll all go out sometime, and then it will be you and me alone, and then you'll --"

Her hand closed around an ornamental candlestick just as she turned to the door, and consequently realized that she was no longer completely alone in the kitchen.  Akiva stood in the doorway, bouncing Gabriel in her arms.  Raizel froze, her face going white, and she stared aghast at her self-assigned wards, now witnesses to her sudden devolution into revenge.

"I -- I -- I didn't -- I didn't mean it --"  She tried to stammer out an excuse, but there was no way to dodge around what she had been in the process of doing.  Raizel's shoulders slumped.  With a heart-wrenching sigh, she gave Akiva an awful, dejected look. 

"I found the hanukiah candles," she said miserably, gesturing to the once-lovingly packed cardboard box full of holiday items that had now been upended and unceremoniously dumped on the kitchen floor.  She had found the candles: somewhere, somewhere in there.  Before Dreogan's stupid cat had stupidly attacked her without cause.  Raizel scowled anew. 

"Sorry," she added in a very small voice.  Suddenly, this all felt very big.   Her stomach twisted, and she gave a miserable shrug, bending over to hide the fact that her eyes were stinging again.  She hated that stupid cat.  "I'll clean it up."

It was a blessing when Gabriel had finally settled for a nap.  With everything that had happened, mother and son were not sleeping well.  Gabriel barely slept more than a couple of very restless hours before he was up again, and Akiva found herself not sleeping at all, except for the rare moments where she actually just couldn’t keep her eyes open for a moment longer. 

It was like moving in slow motion sometimes.  She knew she had things to do, she had Gabriel, and the MAO, and Dree wouldn’t want her to go into shock – to go completely numb.  He wanted her taking care of their child, taking care of his work.  She refused to think in terms of would haves, he wanted to come home to his wife and son not completely fallen apart. 

And Akiva had significant hope that her husband would come home. 

It didn’t mean that she wasn’t half-insane with worry and constantly distracted, though.  She was just glad, that for a peaceful moment or two, while she was trying to get things together for the first night of Hanukkah.  And Raizel was being so helpful. 

Upon their first several interactions, Akiva did not anticipate being anyone of importance to Raizel, and perhaps nothing more than an annoyance in her dealings with the Eleor family, but even Akiva Eleor’s first impressions could be wrong.  She had even volunteered to help set up and get ready for dinner, and Akiva did not say no to help, at all.  She figured having a second set of eyes would keep her on track and make things easier, particularly with a fussy baby in tow. 

So, Akiva had excused herself for a couple of minutes from the kitchen just to grab the baby.  She’d put him in his bouncy chair that he enjoyed, and give him a few toys to occupy himself while dinner was being made – that would work… She lifted the bleary, hazy eyed baby out of the crib, kissing him repeatedly (she kissed him so often), and giggled as he yawned, slumping on her shoulder, cuddled up. 

Akiva was not really upset, not entirely when Gabriel was jostled out of his still sleepy relaxed state by something falling from downstairs and then the sound of a cat – could have only been Tabitha, judging from how fast the scurrying paws away and the hiss traveled up the stairs – she was even less friendly now than she had ever been – not surprising, really, and Akiva picked up the pace down the stairs, standing in the doorway as Raizel put her hand under a stream of running water.

Looking at her sympathetically, Akiva let out a deep breath.  “She’s got a temper,” she excused, looking around for a sign of the cat, but knowing she was capable of hiding and disappearing practically anywhere for hours at a time.  “There are bandages and anti-bacterial in the back of the glass cabinet,” Akiva said as she walked that way, on the way to putting Gabriel in his seat (though it appeared he was clinging to her rather fiercely) and she could grab the stuff for her. 

“Don’t worry about it,” she emphasized worry, because Raizel didn’t need to – it wasn’t a big deal.  So many things, like this, might have seemed so big once, but they were little, and Akiva was okay with that.  “The box needed to be unpacked anyway,” she smiled with a little laugh, bouncing Gabriel as he fussed. 

She took the little first aid kit out of the back of the cabinet and walked it over to Raizel, by the sink.  “Did I say ‘Thank you,’ yet?” she asked, as Gabriel put her collar in his mouth and she leaned against the countertop.  “You’ve done so much.”

Raizel eyed the little first aid kit with considerable distaste as she kept one hand pressed to her injury, keeping the pressure on.  Muggle healing techniques always seemed horribly primitive to her when compared to runes, potions, and spells; having to sit through agonizingly gruesome first aid lessons had been one of her least favorite parts of the army.  She'd rather suffer dramatically through her scratches without any sort of remedy whatsoever than allow someone to put anti-anything on her cuts.

Luckily, Akiva did not seem to take the disaster in the kitchen to heart.  Raizel relaxed incrementally, using her position to swipe discreetly at her eyes as she picked up the now-fallen box.  For someone who had just had the father of her young baby snatched away, Akiva was dealing with things remarkably well.

That level-headed, cheerful outlook was not something that Raizel had appreciated at first, but over the past few months -- especially the past few days -- she had come to value that part of the witch's personality.  Akiva might freeze up in a crisis (although hopefully she would not now, after weeks spent in Raizel's tutelage), but she dealt with stress and strain as well as anyone that the Cursebreaker had ever known.  She was far from the pushover that Raizel had taken her for at first.  Akiva's strength was a different sort than she was used to seeing, but it was there nonetheless, real and resilient under the quiet surface.

Raizel gave an embarrassed shrug in the witch's direction, dropping her eyes to examine her injured hand.  "It is no problem," she said uncomfortably.  All of that -- the thank yous, the acknowledgements, the implication that there was anything going on here beyond the usual routine -- made her feel helplessly awkward. 

The cuts did not seem very bad.  Raizel sketched a few runes over them -- isa, soluwo, and inguz -- and then decided to leave the injury be.  Hopefully Akiva would not push the subject of Muggle medicine.

"I could Vanish its claws, if you wanted," she offered, for sheer virtue of being helpful as she gave a resigned sigh and bent to begin picking up the fallen objects.  "And its teeth.  It would be no trouble."  Dreogan might object, but Dreogan was temporarily out of the picture now, and chances were good that Raizel would be able to figure out how to recover teeth and claws by the time that the mage returned.  Besides, it could hardly be safe having Gabriel around the horrible, vicious beast.

There were moments where Akiva could pretend that Dreogan was going to walk through the door at any moment and apologize for getting caught up at the office and going on a last minute trip where the owl got lost.  It helped her get through a couple of moments, but sometimes, it felt very heavy.  Being alone with Gabriel was tough – so it was rarely a truth.  Her parents would pop in, or she would take Gabriel to them, Hestia was a frequent visitor – Adon as well, who truly helped.  Then, Raizel, of course, who was a constant in their life now, even though she didn’t like to acknowledge what she was doing and how she was helping, Akiva couldn’t help but look to her as someone she could count on, and owed a lot too.

Without them Akiva might not have been able to cope. 

She helped her learn how to deal with a crisis, and now Akiva’s true strength – that of a waiter, a do-er, a person who needed a task to be done in a time of turmoil could happen.  She worked very hard to make everything appear okay; tense, maybe a little manic, but okay. 

It wasn’t good for the people around her, much less herself to live in a constant state of panic and worry, Gabriel needed a schedule and stability.  She needed those things too, maybe not in the same way, but the need was there. 

Looking up from the counter top, Akiva laughed softly, shaking her head.  “Even if I wanted you to, Tabitha wouldn’t let you near her.”  It was true, the cat was feisty, and if she didn’t like someone, she didn’t like someone.  Dreogan could do no wrong, she was lukewarm about Akiva – tolerated her, at least appeared to, but Tabitha was a virtual guardian for their son. 

“Dreogan wouldn’t be happy about it either,” she added, wanting to interject something about his feelings on the matter – at least what she supposed would be his feelings.  Taking a deep breath through her nose, she stopped herself from being upset. 

Reaching up with one hand, she ran her fingers through her hair, letting out a deep sigh as she watched Raizel start to pick things up.  Gabriel tugged at a strand of her hair, and Akiva planted a rather noisy kiss on his cheek, earning a burble of sound from the baby. 

She put her son in his little bouncing chair and sighed, moving to check what was on the oven.  “Is everything polished?” Akiva asked, not really looking as she used her wand to pull the tray out and stuck it with a knife to see if it was ready.  It wasn’t. 

Closing the oven,  Akiva leaned her forehead against the closed handle. 

Raizel set a silver candlestick back on the counter with finality, and paused in her retrieval efforts to eye the collection of objects as one might survey an enemy before going into combat.  It had been a long time since she had put this much effort into preparing for a holiday.  In fact, once she thought about it, she wasn't sure that she had ever put effort into preparing for a chag.  When she'd been a girl, her mother had firmly taken control of every holiday planning process, and her older sister Eszter had just as firmly inserted herself as the prime assistant.  Most of Raizel's endeavors had consisted of coming up with ways to loudly ruin the festivities.

"Does it have to be polished?" she asked uncertainly.  If it did, it was definitely not -- the passing of time had turned the silver surface gray.  Frowning, the mage reached for her wand.  Her knowledge of household spells was limited, so she wasn't certain which charm resulted in instantly polished candlesticks, but it wouldn't be too difficult to simply change the color.  She could probably approximate some sort of silver shine.

She still wasn't certain whether or not she liked talking about what Dreogan wanted.  Akiva and Hestia both seemed inclined to treat the current holiday as if the current patriarch of the Eleor family had simply stepped out for a moment -- as if they should all take his wishes into account on the slim chance that he made it back in time for the seder.  But in some ways, it felt much less awkward than pretending that her friend's brother wasn't part of their lives at all -- at least it meant that they were all optimistically hoping for his soon return.

"He would probably not even notice," she pointed out, her forehead creasing as she picked up the candlestick, turning it to regard it from different angles.  One thing that could be said about the Eleors -- they were certainly not lacking in formal dinnerware.  She had no doubt that Dreogan and Akiva's extensive collection was only a small portion of the greater set of candlesticks, silverware, plates, and religious items that the family had acquired over the years; the family vault and Hestia undoubtedly held the rest.  Adon had probably inherited his own set, although knowing him, it was likely shoved into a box that he kept under his bed or something. 

"And if he did, why would it be bad?" she added hypothetically, raising her wand over the candlestick.  A simple color-changing charm -- and then no one would have to ever worry again about polishing.  "Maybe it would eat less if it didn't have teeth."

Nodding silently in response to Raizel’s question, Akiva took a moment, a breath, before she pushed herself up and turned on her flat heel.  Gabriel was waving his pudgy hand at the little hanging plus ornaments with little mirrors attached, Raizel was inspecting silver: it all seemed so mundane. 

Under the veneer of normalcy, of course, was everything completely abnormal about this.  Were it normal, Akiva might not have been trying so hard.  It might have actually been natural. 

She felt all out of sorts, but she had to keep it together.  It was an endless struggle to do so.  She would have been disgusted with herself were she not struggling.  It seemed so… reasonable, to push to survive and continue.  So, she wiped her hands on her apron and she continued forward, as usual. 

“They definitely need to be polished,” she appraised, almost to herself as she and Raizel examined them together.  The shine had given way to a dull, surface level stain, and Akiva figured there must be a spell somewhere for it.  It excaped her at the moment, however, and Akiva sighed, stepping back to lean against the counter.

She laughed, despite herself, at Raizel’s points about Tabitha.  The cat was not fond of most.  She had heard stories about what she did to Adon’s boots, how she would disappear on whims then reappear, and lived her own life, despite being a cat.  They had joked, more than once, that perhaps she was an animagus who had a deep fondness for Dreogan and had forgotten how to be a human again.  There were certainly striking enough markings on the cat to suggest it.  “He would,” Akiva assured her, “and he’d be sour for weeks.  Don’t forget, Tabitha was his first lady,” her smile softened and warmed as she crossed her arms over her chest. 

“Besides,” she added, “she’s a good guardian, that one.”  It was true, Tabitha always seemed to just know when something was amiss, and even more than that, was not kind to strangers – all adding up to a very valuable family member.  “What use would she be if she couldn’t even scratch?”

She almost winked (though opted against it),  and smiled, looking back at the silver in Raizel’s hand.  Pursing her lips and scrunching her eyebrows, she had to have something… and then, like a shot, she had an idea!  Akiva practically bounded toward the shelving units in search of a book.  “One second,” she mumbled repeatedly, before plucking it off the shelves. 

A Witch's Guide to Everything Practical in the House by Amelia Frankenbaum, published in 1845 (Akiva had always loved old things, and collected during her time at Flourish & Blott's).  “Yes!” she jumped a little staring at the cover of the book for a split second before she started flipping through the pages to the glossary, “I think I might have found something,” she said out loud, not turning to Raizel as she looked. 

Raizel didn't technically have anything against books.  When her life was slower, she was unembarrassed to admit that she read a fair amount, and she had continued to hold her head high even after Adon had caught her reading his copy of The Mysterious Workings of Rhoderic Persamon, despite the considerable amount of teasing that she had had to endure.  (Why he had even owned a copy of a magical romance novel like that, she still did not know; Raizel had found his claim that his mother had given it to him while he was in the hospital after a so-called failed assassination attempt to be entirely suspect.)

But this book... Akiva was already flipping through it, which meant that Raizel had to twist her head to see the cover.  Seriously?!

"What?!"  The disbelief exploded out of her.  Raizel made a grab for the book with her free hand, not caring if she tore it out of Akiva's hands. 

"No, no, no, no!  How can that be everything practical that a witch should know?" she demanded angrily, pointing the candlestick accusingly at Akiva.  The book's implications were infuriating enough that the insulting w-word had even slipped out.  "That is demeaning!  Why don't wizards know practical things in the house?  Why do you even own that?" she asked plaintively, giving the other woman a sorely disappointed look.

Akiva jumped at the sound of Raizel’s explosive outburst.  Blinking, she didn’t even register for a full moment that she had ripped the book from her hands and was waving a candlestick.  It was a little bit of sensory overload to be perfectly honest, and she looked at Raizel with wide, doe-eyes for the first time in quite a long time – not really sure what to make of what was going on.

Until, of course, it hit her, and Akiva realized what the offense the book had.  It wasn’t as though Akiva took the guide seriously, she hadn’t memorized every page and krup-eared every single thing that could have been useful.  It was more of a repoisity of spells that she found helpful. 

It wasn’t a progressive book, by any stretch of the means, she knew that, but that didn’t mean it couldn’t be used progressively.  She stifled a bout of laughter and gently took the very old book from Raizel’s hands.  “I agree,” she offerd, right off the bat, “that it shouldn’t just be for witches – and, in this household,” she motioned around, “it’s most certainly not.” 

When they were moving and preparing things, it had proved a useful guide for her and Dreogan – and it even enabled them to share more responsibilities and learn things together.  “I worked at Flourish & Blott’s for a bit,” she explained, “and I collected old books.”

Smirking, Akiva smoothed the pages, “Despite your first impression, it does have some helpful things in it,” she explained, and for emphasis, flipped to the page dedicated to polishing charms, “See?”

"Helpful?"  Raizel gave a loud huff that left no doubt what her opinion on the matter might be.  Cleaning spells were not helpful, especially not when they required an inordinately ridiculous level of cleaning.  Anyone who seriously planned to polish silverware on a regular basis ought to find better things to do with their time.

But as Akiva tilted the book to show her the spell, a small, rectangular piece of paper escaped from between the pages, fluttering and dancing away. Raizel moved instinctively, catching it in the air just before it hit the ground.

It was a photograph -- not a magical one, Raizel saw immediately, but Muggle, old and faded, with the edges just beginning to curl.  Someone must have slipped it into the book for safe-keeping, pressing it there to keep the aging paper flat.  A young couple, tinted in sepia stared, straight at the camera.  They were wearing plain clothes, the sort that one might expect from three quarters of a century earlier:  not well off, but well enough.  Their gazes were direct and unafraid, but there was a sad, resigned note somehow -- maybe in the way that the man, with his dark eyes and dark mustache, had placed his hand gently on the young woman's back, or in the way that she kept her hands resting lightly on her swollen belly.

Raizel's eyes flicked over the picture, and then to Akiva in obvious surprise.  What a Muggle photograph had been doing in a magic book, even one that seemed so inherently aggravating, she didn't know. 

"There are better books to collect," she informed Akiva firmly, even as she handed over the photograph with a curious look.  "Who is that?  Do they leave photographs in the books?"

Akiva honestly couldn’t remember when she had put that in there.  Watching the faded piece of paper fall to the ground, she wasn’t quick enough to beat Raizel grabbing it.  She sucked in a deep breath, afraid that Rai might grip too hard, that the paper might rip. 

She snapped the book shut, it didn’t seem to matter all that much in the moment – the silver could remain unpolished in the face of the picture, and she shoved it back on the shelf.  “I guess,” she couldn’t commit to fully answering Raizel’s point – maybe there were better things to collect, but it didn’t really matter as she smoothed the picture reverently, not wanting to disturb the paper, or destroy it further. 

Remembering that she had put it inside the book to flatten it, and then just having lost track of it.  A pang of guilt travelled through her.  This was something she shouldn’t have forgotten. 

“These are my grandparents,” Akiva smiled.  She had never met her grandfather.  He hadn’t been able to leave Germany when her grandmother had, and thus, had never made it into her father’s life, or hers.  “It’s from 1934,” she commented, a small smile on her lips. 

Still gazing at the picture, remembering time spent with her grandmother, remembering how she came to have this photo and knowing that her grandmother would be so proud today, if she had lived to see it.  Breathing through her nose, Akiva let out a deep breath, “Do you keep pictures of your family?” she looked at Raizel, “I’m afraid you wouldn’t be surprised to find out I am very sentimental,” she laughed a bit.  It was probably expected, but she couldn’t help it. 

She looked at Raizel, wondering if under the practical exterior she might have some of the same inclinations. 

The blonde mage regarded her with a frown, her brows knit, as she silently calculated in her head.  1934.  The Katzes were a German family.  The conclusion wasn't difficult, not when the narrative was so engrained. 

She gave a half-hearted shrug at Akiva's question.  "I see them sometimes," she said breezily, even though that wasn't at all what the witch had been asking.  The pang of guilt was hard to ignore.  No, she'd never kept photos of her parents or her siblings.  Life as a Cursebreaker meant that she was constantly on the move; up until this past summer, she'd rarely spent more than a few months in the same place.  It made her flat back in Tel Aviv seem like a rather empty sort of home.  It was a place she stayed in between adventures; not a place where she really lived.

That meant that she'd never bothered to collect the sorts of sentimental treasures that would matter so much to Akiva.  Why would she ever want pictures of her parents or Eszter, when seeing them once or twice a year was still more than she wanted?  But Benny... her stomach twisted uncomfortably.  Suddenly, she wished she had a photograph of her brother.

Thinking about that -- thinking about anything like that -- felt very overwhelming.  Raizel squinted at the photograph in Akiva's hands instead.  The man and woman -- she couldn't tell if they were really sad, or if it was something about the old fashioned clothes, the way that they were both staring straight at the camera.  Were they making a statement -- staring straight ahead at the future, knowing what was coming?  Knowing that this picture might be the only thing left?  Did they have any idea of what the future held for them, back in 1934?  Were they simply doing whatever the photographer had told them without protest?  Were they so used to following instructions, as too many innocent people had been?

"What happened to them?" she asked, nodding towards the photo.  She could venture a guess -- too many stories were too similar -- but it still felt important to know.  To remember.  "They weren't at your wedding."

It was hard to confront the past, Akiva was well aware.  She had to do it through her entire adolescence.  Growing and developing in the same time as the famed Harry Potter was a peculiar experience for her.  There was a sense of personal history for her that seemed to resonate so deeply and then directly play a part in her life. 

As a young woman, she'd wondered countless times whether or not she'd end up like them.  Whether something so ingrained in her, so out of her own control, was going to put her in the same place they had been, and Akiva ran, preserved herself, but it didn't make it easier.  It didn't help knowing that she escaped and so many others hadn't. 

She imagined it was a feeling her grandmother must have had often.  Sometimes, especially now, after time had passed and guilt was a numb ache at times, she'd have liked to talk to her about it. 

Looking at the blonde witch, it wasn't hard to see conflict in her features.  Raizel attempted to be a closed book, but some of her expressions were all too easy to read.  Her use of more questions was an obvious deflection.  But, perhaps Akiva could get her to talk more by answering.  She did want to know more about Raizel, as a person, after all.  She was such a part of her life now it seemed unreasonable that she didn't know that much at all. 

"They were separated," Akiva smoothed the picture again, out of necessity for her hands, "He sent her here, to London," Akiva explained, "where my father was born.  They didn't have the money to go together and he couldn't abandon the grocery."  It was like hearing her grandmother whisper the story in her ear, reciting it back with precision.  "They kept in communication, of course, as much as they could - until there wasn't anything else.  It took years for my grandmother to know what happened." 

She laughed a little, out of discomfort, feeling a very oppressive weight suddenly on her chest, like someone had swung a wrecking ball into her rib cage.  "She said she always knew, inside," Akiva pressed her hand to the area of her chest where her heart was beating just a little stronger than normal, "but she didn't come to peace with it until she saw his name on a registry.  She raised my father alone," Akiva explained, trying her hardest not to look at her son in that moment. 

"She lived in a cottage in the country when she retired, she was old, and very happy," Akiva smiled, "The cottage is mine, of course, I've always hoped to use it as a summer holiday home with my family - the tree swing in the garden is still up."  The image of herself and Dreogan with Gabriel and several more unnamed and unrealized Eleors to-be flitted briefly through her mind.  "And she passed away years ago." 

Akiva had to remind herself that her grandmother did not die unhappy.  She died a woman who regretted little and loved a lot, and that was a good end to any life.  She hoped she could be so lucky, in that way, at least.  "I try to think of it as a good story - a happy one," Akiva explained, "even with tragedies interspersed." 

"But enough about me and mine!" she bit her lip, "you said you see your family sometimes?  They're still in Israel, right?"

As far as Raizel was concerned, they had hardly said enough about Akiva and her family.  She would much rather hear the witch talk about the tragic story of her grandparents than share anything about her own family, whether she liked and trusted Akiva or not.  But now the witch had asked, and she couldn't very well avoid the question. 

"Yeh, my parents live in Tel Aviv.  My sister lives in Brussels," she said unhappily.  Perfect, driven Eszter had taken a job there after she'd graduated from Beit Gaddol -- she still lived there now, pestering the International Federation of Wizards on human rights issues every chance she got and deep into a committed relationship with her long-term girlfriend.  Raizel would never admit to being jealous of her sister, but it did not help that Eszter's success came up at every family dinner.  At least before, Benny had been there to help balance out the fact that their older sister could seemingly do no wrong.  Now Raizel was all alone as the family failure.

"It is not as interesting of a story, though.  My ima's family moved to HaEretz before the War."  She gave a nonchalant shrug, her attention entirely fixed on the tarnished objects as she gathered them up again, lining them up one by one on the countertop.  She would much rather talk about than field any questions about Benny or Eszter.  "My grandmother still lives in Herzliyya.  My father is Muggleborn, and he made aliyah after he graduated from Beit Gaddol.  We get together for chagim sometimes, but not very often. "  She shrugged again, doing her best to look completely noncommittal to the entire idea, as if she didn't care one way or the other. "Maybe I'll go see them for Pesach."

For someone who did not like to share, Raizel’s expressions were most telling.  She didn’t look particularly happy when she talked about her family, in fact, she might even describe her expression as a grimace. 

She didn’t elaborate much, at least not on the current situation, and it didn’t help put Akiva’s curiosity to rest.  Everyone had a family, and no matter what they felt about them, they were theirs.  If Akiva had a larger family, she didn’t know how she would feel.  Right now, as an only child, she thought she might never want to leave them.  But, she assumed feelings changed when the picture was fuller. 

Unfortunately, it seemed like her family history made small families the norm.  She hoped she could change that, especially as she looked at Gabriel.  He deserved brothers and sisters and everything she didn’t have.  Moving to the counter, Akiva leaned against it, casually crossing her arms over her chest as she looked critically at Rai.  “You should go see them, for Pesach,” Akiva clarified, wanting to be specific, like Rai was.  After all, you didn’t narrow visiting time down to holidays if there wasn’t a perceived real reason for it. 

“I’m sure your parents would love to see you, and,” Akiva added with a sly sort of smile, “You can show off some of the things I’ve taught you!” A bubble of laughter poured out, just imagining it.  She knew it was possible, but sometimes, for others, mind definitely trumped matter, and she wondered if Raizel would even let herself get to the right headspace to be exceptional in things that did not involve arse kicking.  Though, admittedly, she was quite good at that. 

She also knew she could go about it in a different way.  “I know I try to see my parents as much as possible, especially now.  They love spending time with Gabriel… and, you just never know, right?”  She shrugged.  “Brussels isn’t that far away though,” she added, looking over her shoulder at the same time as she moved toward the sink.  “Is your sister as busy as you are?" she asked.

The witch's encouragement to visit for Passover was greeted with a nonchalant shrug -- though at the suggestion that Raizel could show off by performing the household magic she'd been miserably performing these past few weeks, the Cursebreaker let out a surprised, heartfelt laugh.  Grinning despite herself, she flashed Akiva a grateful look.  The thought that she would ever cast these sorts of spells anywhere unless she was under severe duress was unthinkable, but that, her friend surely knew.

She shrugged again at Akiva's inquiry after Eszter, rolling her shoulders back.  Eyeing the tarnished candlesticks was getting her nowhere.  Raizel heaved a sigh, and then, after aiming a scowl at the witch for forcing her to come to this point, held her hand out for the ridiculously backwards spellbook.

"Maybe," she said noncommittally.  "We don't talk very much.  Eszter likes to be respectable."  An extreme roll of her eyes gave away exactly what Raizel thought of this trait; with a scowl, she took the book from Akiva, turning it so that she could read the polishing charm.

"I was closer with Benny, anyway.  Our brother."  The words came out in kind of a rush, sounding strained and far too normal all at once.  Raizel's eyes flicked to meet Akiva's, her mouth pressed thin, silently judging -- trying to evaluate if this meant anything, if she even knew.

"He died last winter."  Her heart was beating quickly, and despite the fact that they were standing here in the middle of Akiva's warm kitchen, despite the fact that there was no danger for miles and miles, Raizel suddenly felt breathless and very brazen.  She gave another careless shrug, biting her lip to wet it.  "I haven't really talked to Eszter since then."