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‘Enna, dont—’ His plea falls on deaf ears. You do not hesitate, your practiced movements do not cease in utter refusal to pay any heed to his boyish, senseless pride. It hadn’t been up to him in the first place; from the moments (and now it seems that they had passed so, so terribly slow) that he had quivered, his strength failing him, fallen to an uncertain end, it had not been up to him; you would not be the one to step aside meekly, let him wallow in his pain, not when you could help him, willing or not. ‘I deserved it,’ A rush of anger comes to you then, hot and overwhelming, your teeth gritting together before his sentence truly even finishes. If it weren’t so counterproductive, you might have been tempted to give him something to remember the immense stupidity of his words by. “No one deserves to be in pain.” The lie comes softly, easily, even as the faces of men, of beasts, ensnare your mind, their names, their deeds, like vices around your heart. For the things that they have said, the evil things that they have done, they deserve to know what it is to lose, to suffer, to writhe in the anguish, the loneliness, they have condemned themselves to. But Erebos? Even in all of his devilry, his cunning, cutting smiles, never.
It is the Haruspex’s touch, a presence that you had nearly forgotten in all of your fear, that finds you, warms the damp lines of your cheek. He thanks you, and you find the courage to smile before resting your head against your prince’s neck, his leaning against your shoulder. ‘I was stupid.’ It is not what you expected to hear from the ever-confident boy, his words far too heavy in all the defeat that they hold. You quiver against him, breathing out heavily in an uneven sigh, uncertain of the words to say to make anything better, easier for him to swallow. “You’re being stupid now,” and so you don’t, the words caught between anger and an attempt at a quip, a huff of breath coming out in place of a laugh. It is Ashamin that provides the words of comfort then, provoking a smile to cling to your lips, only hoping that it works to console him, if only a little bit, only for a while. ‘…Neither of us could have predicted we’d run into wolves tonight, could we? This is unfamiliar territory, for all of us.’
“Wolves?” Your head snaps to the Haruspex’s dark shape then, your eyes wide, body fidgeting against the damp skin of the forlorn boy, as the level of danger the two had found themselves in, the danger that surrounds you now, begins to sink in, become clear. “It leaves me to wonder why the two of you chose a time such as this to do your... adventuring.” It is not entirely unexpected of Erebos in all of his youthful, foolish bliss, too content in tempting fate (though it lures a worried, pleading gaze), however, for as little as you know the Haruspex, he had always seemed too cautious to put himself so far in to harm’s way. Before either of them can question your own wanderings, you clumsily climb your way to your feet, a half-nervous glance tossed to the lingering shadows. “Let’s go home,” it is a quiet plead, your muzzle reaching to brush Erebos’ cheek, offering gentle encouragement. “Or at least get away from here.”
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if there's no one beside you when your soul embarks
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[O] Where's your verse, your verb, proverb, lesson learned
