So hit me right in the heart—

Part of him was still reeling from the sudden, unexpected blow: to be asked to forget.. not forgive, not let go, not move on, but forget. Of all the things he could've been begged, of all the things he wanted to do, he was asked the one he couldn't—wouldn't, even if he had a choice.

You just didn't forget about that kind of thing. You couldn't just erase the eye-to-heart connection, the rapid warmth and joy firing when you caught sight of something—you couldn't just forget all of that. Just as little as you could take away that kind of memory (instinct) you could take away a history drenched in blood, two souls twined together by the atrocities they had committed. Aramis and d'Artagnan had been the cause of death of that spying mare—but hadn't Mauja been there to sanction it? Hadn't he watched, thinking it a pity, but a necessary evil? Unicorn she had been, but she had seen, she had heard, and she was going to tell.

So, she had had to die. And die she had. And—“Why”—

"BECAUSE I LOVE HIM!" he snapped, shouted, pale head thrown high and blue eyes burning—

(But it's just pain behind all those flames.)

“That was wrong, I’ve angered you… I’m sorry,” stop stop stop, shut up shut up SHUT UP—

But no words made it past his dark lips. He just stood there, frozen in the anger and the hurt and the truth he had just flung at Sacre—poor, innocent Sacre. (It's not his fault, I know it's not his fault, but it hurts all the same.) Air made it in through quivering nostrils, let out again in a shaking snort, and—everything—he wanted to say sorry, to apologize, to say it was alright, everything would be alright, it wasn't Sacre's fault, but then there was that whole episode of his lackadaisical explanation of the herd because he was hurting. And he hadn't spoken to anyone in a while. He had no clue what was going on. He was sad, he was angry, he wanted to hide. Run away and leap off a cliff and scream as he fell, just to feel anything.

But he couldn't, because he had a duty to do to Sacre. To induct him into the herd. So he was bracing for a question, or many, or anything, when Alysanne happened.

“Oh Mauja, that is no way to welcome someone to our herd.”
Oh Mauja. How do you know I’m not a fool?
Oh Mauja.
Oh Mauja.
OH MAUJA—

Maybe it fucking wasn't 'a way' to welcome into the herd, but he was tired, he was angry, he was hurt, he was upset, and it didn't matter that she smiled in her eyes because it still stung (—I can't shut down anymore). “I think I’ve put him in a bad mood.”

Like he wasn't there. Like he was just another bush in the shadows, a bit of an oddity, a curiosity, not very sentient. An outsider. He wished he could clench his jaws together harder, because he was doing it for all he was worth, but it wasn't hard enough, despite the ache going through half his skull.

And he wished his ears could merge fully with his neck, just to show them how it hurt—how invalidated he felt.

Like, stop having emotions already, Mauja. Nobody cares about them anyway.

Alysanne had matters well in hand, anyway. She certainly didn't curse in front of strangers, or .. gloss over details or .. not present things in the best light... And she could talk at least, he couldn't, not with the fucking lump burning in his throat and the saltwater threatening to start spilling from his eyes at any moment—

He gave Alysanne one last, odd look before attempting to melt away into the shadows and disappear.

[ @Alysanne @Sacre | He's not running off or anything, just walking away. ]