Killian's earliest memories were of flickering lights and of training with a staff. Of running through the forest, sling in one hand and sword across his back. Of his father sitting him down and telling him that he would never be accepted by the clan, but that he loved him all the same and that his mother would always treat him like her own son. That wasn't a surprise. Killian knew that he wasn't like the other halflings. That knowledge had been there for as long as he could remember, and instead of resenting it he just treated it like any other fact. He faced it with a calm stoicism and continued to learn. And learn he did. He studied up on battle tactics and strategies even though he knew that he would never lead the tribe. He scanned religious texts and found himself questioning the very ideas that the group had used as a basis of belief. He read up on philosophies from all over and imparted some of this knowledge onto his siblings. He hoped that Bryn took something away from it all, but he highly doubted it. And Vivian's gazes held a shadow behind them that he didn't dare try to analyze. So he tended to keep to himself, participating in his sister's schemes and trying his best to keep the youngest out of too much trouble. He became a sort of confidant for Bryn, and did his best to stay out of trouble with the elders of the clan. And most importantly, he continued to study and read, amassing knowledge that he tried to pass on to others.
To say that Killian was sad when Bryn left was a vast understatement. He had watched her leave, knowing that he could do nothing more for her. It was something he had been expecting for a while, a kind of feeling he had. She wasn't meant to stay here with the tribe. He could become a wise man for the group, and his sister was destined to become the leader when their parents stepped down, but there was never a spot for young Bryn. And now she could make her own destiny. He smiled a sad smile and let his emotions grip him for a moment before his normal calm demeanor was regained. There was still much to be done and not nearly enough time to do it.
He continued training with a staff, preferring it to other weapons. A staff could kill, yes, but it was a weapon that was not normally used for killing blows, something that could take someone out without the worry of injuries that would kill outright. Besides, people tended to underestimate those wielding weapons that did not seem lethal, something Killian could use to his advantage. And while he continued to learn about other weapons as well, the quarter staff was always the one he would gravitate back to.
It was Killian who first heard of Bryn's adventures years later, and it was him who spread the word, keeping a close eye on his elder sister while doing so. She seemed less than please with the news being spread, and it made him wonder about things. Things like how she had treated them when they were kids. Or how, even with her status among the tribe as its future leader, she never seemed to bother helping anyone else out. Not unless it helped her of course. It was a trend that he had noticed as the years had passed, as he honed his skills in observation. Because he figured that if no one would bother to include him, he wouldn't hold it against them. It had taken him some time to learn, but Killian soon discovered that the tribe was locked in old habits, shunning things that they didn't understand. And Killian just happened to represent things they didn't understand. The emotional attachments that his parents had made with a child that wasn't theirs. The fact that his birth parents had abandoned him in the first place. The stoicism that he treated almost everything with, and the calm smile he put on where the others would become impatient. None of these things fit in with their world, and he was torn between pitying them for it or just shaking it all off.
When Bryn returned to the clan, Killian was happy. It was nice having his little sister back, and although he knew it wouldn't last long, the time they did have was spent celebrating. He didn't want to damper the mood with news of their parents, the event that happened all those years ago. Besides, she'd have heard by now, right? As the years passed on, it seemed more and more like she hadn't heard, and that Vivian wasn't about to tell her. Her reaction when he pulled her aside just proved it to him. He collected some items that he had been saving up and waited for her. It was hours before she moved from the spot he had left her, and although she didn't speak, Killian knew what was going through Bryn's head. Even after all this time he was able to read her like an open book. It was something he was both proud of and also unsure of. Because he didn't want to be able to read her, not now. Not when she was obviously in far more pain than she was willing to let on. It was like reading Vivian, whose dark thoughts tended to play on her face when she wasn't paying attention. It scared him, sometimes, the fact that he had gotten close enough to his sisters to read them like this. But now, it was helpful. It let him know that, no matter what she said or didn't say, Bryn was thankful for his help and the things he was giving her. That was enough for now. As he watched her leave for the second time, a small smile appeared on his face. It didn't last long, though, and for the first time in his memory, Killian felt rage start to build up in him.
The trip back to camp seemed to take even longer than normal. Vivian met him near the edge of camp, false worry playing over her face. "Where were you?" He shook his head, his face contorting in anger.
"You didn't tell her. How long? How long were you planning on hiding it?" His words weren't the rough, barking shout he had expected. Instead they were the cool, sharp edged words of barely contained emotion. He watched his sister's face, watched as shock was replaced by faked confusion. Before she could talk, he held up a hand. "Don't say you don't understand. You know damn well what I'm alluding to."
"She's gone?" The tone of Vivian's voice wasn't that of worry or concern. It only served to fuel the fire.
"She's gone, no thanks to you. You can't just let us have a good thing, can you, Vee? You can't just leave things alone when they're going right?" Killian's hands balled into fists, and he was ready to strike out at something. Not her, never her. But a tree, a rock, something that he could take his frustration out on.
"I didn't... I don't... You don't know what you're talking about, Killian." When Killian looked at his sister's face again, it had set into a stone cold mask of indifference. It was the last straw. He glared at her and roughly shoved past her, ignoring her shout of ire. "Where are you going, Killian?" He stopped, not turning to look at Vivian as he answered.
"I'm leaving. There is no place for me here, so I'm doing what Bryn had the courage to do. I'm going to find a place for myself."
The sun was just showing itself as Killian left the camp. He didn't have much, but it was all essential to him. A crudely drawn map, an old charm Bryn had created for him strung next to the symbol of leadership that Vivian had made for him. His quarterstaff, one that he had trained with for a long time. It wasn't much, but it was important to him all the same. With that thought in mind, Killian set forth, not daring to turn back as he left his old home to find something else. Something better.
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