Nero came to the sea when he was upset. Maybe he didn't believe there was some mystical entity out there watching out for him, but Vellen wasn't why he'd come. There had really only ever been one god for him, hadn't there? And now she was gone. Part of him was grateful she wasn't alive to see the pathetic heathen her son had become and echoes of Asteria being disowned reverberated in the back of his head. If Saga's love was conditional, would she have disowned him as well? If he had done all the drowning and trusted her and gone through with all of it, was he still undeserving of her love if he didn't believe?

He couldn't only hope the dead didn't see what the living did with their lives. That was his only chance at keeping Saga's love in the afterlife, whatever that may have been.

Knowing that Orson hated him, that Alizabeth was disappointed in him, that Lyle and Colsun just simply didn't understand him – well, there was no room for another disappointment. It weighed down on him so heavily to know that he would never truly belong anywhere: not with the Sigrún, not with the Valentines, not even in Lorien Plains with his wife. Wherever he turned, Nero was met with resistance and disappointment and he simply didn't know how to struggle through it anymore. The sovereign wasn't even four years old. How had so much grief been shoved into one lifetime?

Nero sat on the shore where his mother's body had washed up, staring vacantly out into the horizon while willing the form of Saga to rise from the sea and bring him home. That's where he wanted to be: home.

He just didn't know where that was.

I am a question to the world, not an answer to be heard

table by sentinel / art

What stories these shore lengths could tell if they were able to talk. They'd know of love, of hurt. Each grain someone's story. Sometimes laying still on the shore, basking in the sun. Other times subject to the crashing of the waves, being tossed around with seemingly endless force. The sea today did toss her grain towards his once more.

They felt more or less okay approaching, his absence in her life beginning to overshadow the pain and loss they'd needed to process. She'd meant it when she called him her best friend still, she'd meant it just as much when she said she loved him still. There was no way of knowing if Naz was a point where she could successfully harmonize that with what couldn't be. But they felt secure enough, with the shield and bastion of her friends in the jungle, that she could dip her toe in the water.

Across a few more lengths of dark sand she walked towards the beacon. Her face, still fairly fresh large scar now dashed across their muzzle, was a small but hopeful smile. You look like a bump on a log. Naz says with a manner of gentle, quiet, humor that she hoped might quell the twisting of her own belly. Seeing him at a distance wasn't hard but seeing him in detail, the warm pink of his complexion, the shark's bite scar carved in his flesh, and that look on his face.... The worry she felt was hard to stomach. He didn't look like the glowing new father she expected, that she hoped, he'd be. They remain behind him, standing with a couple of lion's length distance between them and @Nero waiting with a scared anticipation for any sign it was ok to come closer.

Nero wondered what Asteria was up to nowadays. Likely much happier now that he has removed himself from her life, but he had noticed a stark decline in Hiccup's scent and wondered if something had happened between them. It didn't seem too likely considering Hiccup was so forgiving and kind, but it left him wondering if his accusation had some merit to it after all. Maybe Asteria had proclaimed her love for the man and he had fled? Nah, no, that wasn't Hiccup. It was cruel of him to think something would happen between the two best friends, even if he had seen friendships crumble because of feelings before his own eyes. Like his own.

Nazonal's absence was still a gaping hole in his chest that he couldn't heal. Waking every day in Lorien Plains and remembering where he was, in a pride that didn't want him, with in-laws that didn't want him, with family that now didn't want him – well, it was too fucking much for him to handle. He dreamt about what life might be like if he hadn't been so stupid, if he'd just forgiven and forgotten and moved in with his best friend. Nero still could have foregone the Sigrún traditions and lived happily as a member of Nazonal's band, and maybe they'd even have a family by now. Maybe he wouldn't wake up every morning disappointed that he hadn't died in his sleep.

But that was not the life he had chosen. Nero knew it was his fault and accepted the blame and responsibility; he just couldn't comprehend his own brain and the way it worked. He loved Ghyslaine and their children. He would never regret her or their marriage, but it did leave him feeling like a stranger to himself at the end of the day.

Nero contemplated a stroll into the ocean. Maybe a swim would do him some good, or maybe he'd meet Saga again. Either would work.

You look like a bump on a log.

He felt a jolt of grief shoot through his chest as he turned his head to look at them, their face marred. Nero's eyes widened and then narrowed as he moved towards her, frowning deeply. "Who did this, Naz? I'll.. I'll fucking kill them," he bristled, emotions all over the place as he warred with angry and grief that his friend(?) had been put through such a traumatic experience. He could only assume the worst and, for now, was eager to feel the fury pumping through his veins. Anger was much easier to handle than everything else.

I am a question to the world, not an answer to be heard

table by sentinel / art

He's there, from the second she speaks they feel their heart race a little. He turns and does not immediately look angry or disgusted to see them. It's reassuring... Until too quickly his face becomes marked by a heavy frown. They are scared it's meant for her, that maybe she's over stepped some boundary and he's to push her away again. It's not until he speaks they realize he's looking at, and talking about, the carved flesh across her face. They exhale heavily with relief and involuntarily shudder away the tension. He's not angry at her. Good. She feels a rush of warm, of all the good feeling but hard to bare emotions she gets from him. We're ok... for now.

But that does not mean the situation doesn't become complicated. Nazonal has only a single name given by the lion who tore open her face and she does not imagine it'll make @Nero happy to hear. Nero... She said she was a Sigrun. That's all she gave me. Naz sounds immensely remorseful, somehow feeling guilty more than anything. She's not overly angry, hurt, or cares for vengeance herself. They only lament and worry for his reaction. They could have lied, the thought crossed her mind only to immediately be dismissed. She'd wouldn't lie to him again, not directly, not indirectly, not by omission.

A Sigrún.

Nero's stomach dropped and he thought, for a moment, that his heart had stopped beating. A Sigrún had done this atrocity? He felt his blood run cold as he studied Nazonal and their new scar, his breath hitched in his throat as he struggled to connect the two: Sigrún and Nazonal's wound. It didn't seem possible, but Nero knew damn well what the family was capable of and he knew damn well that this scarring was not the worst of it. He appreciated the anger because it distracted him from the pain of being so close but unable to touch. "What did she look like?" he had to force his voice to remain steady. Nero was already flipping through the pages of women Sigrún left in the valley, two of which he knew resided in the Plains with him. This was not the work of Ragna or Rhette, that much he knew. Who else was left?

I am a question to the world, not an answer to be heard

table by sentinel / art

In a weird way Naz begins to feel thankful for the mark upon her face. There were so many conversations she and @Nero could have drifted into. This one wasn't easy but it didn't have them against each other either. He is literally across from her but they feel him at her side, close, defensive, that protector that she loves him so much for. It was like, for the first time in a long time, they were on the same side. She did wonder what had plagued his mind so much when they walked up but there would be time later, this moment was becoming too healing for Naz to want to divert it just yet.

Promise me you won't do something stupid... They're a little stern, half worried he'd actually head off into the world to find this lion and half it felt her duty to give one last chance for Nero to decide he didn't want to be involved.

Nazonal withholds the information, but the bait has already been placed. By mentioning the Sigrún name, they have already hooked him into the situation whether he wanted to go along with it or not. Fortunately, he did want that. He wanted to find whoever had done this to her and absolutely rip them to shreds, because at the very least it felt like an accomplishable goal. If he focused on something other than his own misery for a spell, maybe things would be better in the end. Nero didn't think of Ghyslaine or what she might think about him pursuing a member of the Sigrún, nor did he think about the repercussions he might face with the rest of the family. He only wanted revenge and to scar the woman's pretty little face back. Nothing major. He would be grateful for the opportunity.

But Nazonal's words softened him, and he let some of the tension slip from his shoulders while a crooked grin flashed across his muzzle. "I'm not allowed to do anything stupid without you, remember?" That deal they had made so long ago. Nero would respect it. Mostly.

I am a question to the world, not an answer to be heard

table by sentinel / art

The recollection of their promise to each other brings a tightness in her chest. This was too easy... Why weren't they shouting at each other or at odds yet? That seemed to be what fate wanted for their friendship after all. But no, and he still held that promise close enough and with enough respect to remind Naz of it. With a smile, with a happy tear they nod. She lifts a forepaw to effectively fist bump his shoulder, or the lion version of it. Yeah I remember. And they trust he will honor that.

Brown, a fierce and fearless look in her eyes... Nazonal looks away from @Nero and closes her brown eyes in concentration. Trying to recall anything more, trying to find another way to describe that face. But after a moment Naz exhales in frustration and they're looking down at his and her own forepaws there on the dark sand. I'm sorry, I don't remember much more.

The worst part about all of it was the fact he didn’t know if he could promise Nazonal that he wouldn’t go off and do something stupid. Every part of him was itching to run from the scene and hunt down the lioness responsible, even if it meant putting a bounty on his head. Part of him was feeling low enough to even want a bounty on his head and for someone to come collect on it; because at least then he would go out honorably in battle. Sometimes it hurt to live.

Nero nipped playfully at their paw as it came towards him, but he didn’t try to stop them from making contact. The gentle brush of their paw was enough to break his heart all over again and the weakness he felt in that moment made him ashamed. Fortunately, Nazonal was able to distract him with the description of the culprit and his teeth clenched together.

There was only one brown Sigrun that he knew of and he hadn’t seen the pipsqueak since the family gathering to decide the new jarl. She had been obnoxious then and it seemed still very much on her bullshit, but he wasn’t going to jump to conclusions just yet. Well, not all the way. He was halfway there, though. “I think I know who it is,” he mumbled, glancing down at his paws while mulling it over. “You’ve got a healer, then? It looks well taken care of. You’re still as beau.. sy? You’re still busy?” Nero cut himself off and cleared his throat, shaking his head. No, no. Bad. Bad boy.

Smooth.

I am a question to the world, not an answer to be heard

table by sentinel / art

They know him well enough to know it'd be foolish to think he'd never want to do anything about this. She can only hope she'll be there when he does to make sure he comes out of it ok. Good, it'll be easy for you to avoid her then. They're honestly not the least bit curious who he thought it was. That lion didn't matter.

Lions like him did, all those that she held dear old and new. Some friends helped me out, Camilla and Alexander. Then they grow tense. At first she hardly catches the slip. Or rather they do, they want to believe for a second it's some word that will make her heart flip just like he used to be able to do. But it stretches into something else, they're not compliments that belong to her anymore and she feels stupid for thinking what it might have been. Yeah actually- They try to shake away the blush from their cheeks and pretend like they didn't have suspicion of what he was really about to say. At least they have a real answer of substance to his back up question to save them both. -there's been more of us living in the jungle together. We'll be a real band just like my fathers had before long. There's more they could tell him. More they should, more the they wanted to be sure he heard it from her lips first. But they're reminded of the pensive look and state she'd found him in.

Need to make sure he was okay. Need to take care of her friend began to build until it felt like it would burst. I'm sure the kids have been keeping you busy too? How are they?