Despite Veitaru’s seemed haste, Zephyrus made no efforts to keep her pace.
He followed at his own, leisurely tempo, a good few feet behind her: “The sea need not rush to meet the shore,” he’d reasoned.
Archer walked in his shadow, arms folded as he accompanied his brother in silence… or at least, that had been the plan, anyway.
“I’m ignoring you, by the way,” Archer had eventually informed his older sibling.
“I know.”
“Then why didn’t you say anything? Like sorry, maybe.”
Zephyrus contemplated this for a moment, “I was enjoying the peace.”

Archer paused, frowned for a few long moments, and then relented and chuckled lightly. 
“You’re a pain, you know that?”
“One day you’ll learn that not every problem can be solved by bitterness. If I teach you one thing, let it be that.”
“Yeah, well… being a push over won’t help anything, either.”
“And I am neither, nor,” Zephyrus assured him, before turning back to look at Veitaru, and readjusting his scarf. 
“I try to adapt to every new situation, there is no guaranteed path. To achieve success, we must-”
“Let me guess: Be like water?”
Zephyrus nodded sagely.
“In case you haven’t noticed, I’m more of a ‘flaming fists’ type of guy.”

Zephyrus shook his head, “One day you will understand that the water is a metaphor. The same could be said of air: It’s all about being malleable. Violence will not resolve every situation.”
“But neither will playing it peaceful!”
“And that is why I carry a weapon.”
“… ah,” Archer nodded, “Speak softly and carry a big stick. I can get behind that.”
“If, indeed, that is how you must view it.”
“Haha, look at me: I’m a veritable zen-guy. When do I get my guandao?”
“… perhaps you should go back to ignoring me, brother.”
“Can do!”
The two lapsed back into silence, and continued on their path to the graveyard.