one
Aquila's features softened and the bronze lion nodded an agreement with her. He knew why she'd done it, he'd have done it too. I don't want to figure out this life without you either hun. And it could have so easily had happened. He realized his own actions were selfish, it was hypocritical that he wanted to scold her so badly for coming out there after him but didn't see problem in what he'd done. He could have taken himself away from her, away from his family in the Brook. For the last time in a long while his brain settled into a bit of peace, thinking that nothing serious had happened. For the last time in a long while he felt an iota of peace despite the pain in his body and trauma in his head... She began to break the news, began to paint a picture for him of what was going on outside of his awareness in the fight. Everyone... He mumbled while her voice rose above, while he tried to comprehend that all of Amaryllis had just watched him murder Sangria. Watched. Like their fight had been their entertainment for the day. It couldn't have just been @Furia hurt but his own family... her family become a target for Wolfbron. That wasn't what he'd wanted at all. The scene that played in his head was chaos, his mind began to piece together what it knew with what she said. He'd picked up voices, the sounds of other battles. The horrendous clarity began to crystalize and his head began to spin. He saw the battle from his eyes but from above too. What Maua must have seen, their earth so soiled and darkened with lion's blood.
But, the.. there's something else you need to know, Aquila. The words were like a brick wall. His heart sank. His head which had been racing around trying to imagine the mass of lions who had gathered fell still. She was quiet... she was crying. Furia- He urged her, begged, pleaded. What is it? He rose a little so that he could lean in towards her, grabbing for her paws to hold them as he laid uncomfortable and anxious at her mercy.
Valhalla. She started with his native brother's name and brought in the creeping dread to slither down his throat like a vile worm into his gut. It fell like a weight, the world around him began to slow. The walls to warp but her voice never distorted. It was all too clear as she continued, it was the only sound he heard. Valhalla didn't make it. He'd failed his brother. There was no undoing this, no going and talking to the enemy to smooth relations. That was the risk of fighting was it not? He'd forever rid the Hodari of their enemy Sangria. They'd have that peace. The price was Valhalla's life. He couldn't even begin to imagine it being worth it. Knowing that forever more his days would be without the constant, warm, and chaotic presence of the Vikinger. There would be no more practice spars, no more walks along borders talking of the future or dreaming of what tomorrow might hold. When Aquila doubted himself there had always been Valhalla to bolster him. When Aquila didn't feel like he fit in amongst his own family there was Valhalla. As much a part of his heart as Nymeria, Talisa, Aurum, Furia. That spot felt hollow, felt empty and Aquila's toes grew cold. His belly froze on the den floor despite the enclosed space being otherwise comfortable and homey.
For a full minute Aquila was silent, the movements in his face were subtle but signs never the less of the intense emotion that was trying to find its way outside of him. His mouth would slowly fall partly agape, his ears lay down to the side and droop dejectedly, and his silver eyes would begin to pool tears at the edges. His entire façade trembled lightly as he fought back against the explosion. Val. He uttered the syllable in a soft voice, quiet and cracking in his weakness and disbelief. No... no it can't be true. Denial, was that not usually the first stop on grief? He had no reason to think Furia would ever play such a cruel joke on him but he wanted to be wrong about that. He wanted this to be a horrible trick, pay back for him being so stupid and what he'd done. It would be far easier to stomach his friend being a jerk than his brother being dead. Murdered.
It can't be- Maua wouldn't-.... One of their own. He'd stripped the life from a stranger and in poetic, sick, balance a native too had fallen. In bitter sweet irony atop the soil of the Rainforest which he had loved so in life. A land he wanted to go back and someday rule, a home to return to and have for himself. Valhalla had told Aquila about his dreams, how he'd rule. He would have been an infinitely better Sovereign than Aquila had been. He should of had that chance and it was gone. Squandered. It should have been me. Aquila had gone into the Rainforest, an act he knew would provoke a fight. And in retaliation the lions had sought death. A violence, a viciousness Aquila had not seen turned upon him and all the while he fought turned upon Valhalla too. Here he lay, safe, in the company of a friend while Valhalla had been robbed of the same, of all he had ahead of him. Aquila finally began to let the tears cascade down his cheeks. They were slow, Aquila Valour was not one to sob heavily. The emotions trickled down over his bronze cheeks, over the lacerations upon his neck and curled down his chin. His eyes trembled in his skull and he quickly clenched them tightly shut seeming to wince against something painful while the memories of his own fight began to shift, horrendous nightmares brought to light where Sangria was replaced with Valhalla and Aquila over and over tore his life away from him on infinite loop.
