Sephira found a strange, shameful sort of peace in seeing her own pain reflected in Ignatius' eyes. In part because she knew she wasn't alone in her grief, but also because it gave her hope. Her brother's anguish at their sister's passing seemed as strong as her own, and Ig had been carrying this burden for much longer. Good, Sephira thought with a modicum of relief. She prayed this fire would stay lit for them both until vengeance could be had. She did not want the hurt to dull. Seph knew that Avis' ghost would haunt them, as it should. She hung her head.
Ig swore that they would try. A selfish voice in the back of her mind had wanted more, some sort of irrefutable proclamation that it was a certain thing. She wanted Ignatius to swear that he would deliver Kaius' pelt so that she could line her den with it. But she would make due, and was grateful that her brother took pains not to make a promise they might not be able to keep. "Whatever it takes," she agreed with a whisper.
Sephira then stood, posture stooped and weakened in a way she would never dare show in front of anyone outside of their litter, and walked to Ig's side. She pressed her head against his shoulder and allowed herself to weep. Seph wanted to rant and rage, to scream and curse Kaius' every breath, but all she could do was cry. Poor, sweet little Avis. Avis who trusted everyone. Avis, maybe the only one of their siblings who had never seen Kaius for what he really was. Likely the best out of all of them, and killed so soon. It felt like someone was slicing a hole into her chest, and pulling out piece by piece everything that had ever made her happy.
Seph was glad Ignatius had told her. She would figure out what to do with the mixture of range and anguish another day. For now, she just wanted to cry.
