I'm Just Gonna... -Yoink-

When he had mumbled out his answer to why he didn't like her and the slate striped squirrel wolf merely sighed, it irked Saracyn a bit. He wasn't the type to open up to anyone, save for maybe his twin sister from time to time, and she didn't seem to realize just how bloody nice he was being by not yeeting her straight into the frigid lake instead of humoring her curiosity. Scylla tucked up closer to his side and began musing about how it could have been worse, how he could have had been beaten by a slave or a nobody. She was trying to find a silver lining to the dark cloud over his head, but frankly, it was a wasted effort. It was far more than just being beaten that twisted him up. He didn't care about that, nor the fact that he'd lost to a tiny girl really. What mattered was that it was just another thing in a long line of affirmations that he wasn't supposed to even be here. He was a living anomaly, an outlier to the expected norm. He didn't just need to be good, he needed to be the best to prove that he deserved what he had.

Saracyn huffed, then sighed and stared blankly at the stars overhead in the clear night sky. The warmth of the alcohol coupled with his thick fur helped keep the chill out of his body, radiating heat for Scylla to draw from. A diminutive paw touched his foreleg, drawing his cobalt eyes back down to watch as Scylla got to unsteady paws and leaned in to plant a gentle kiss to the side of his muzzle, then slid her languid tail across his lower belly. Something inside him clenched again and his heart stopped with a jolt before resuming, but he gave no visual response. He didn't even understand what he was feeling right now. Effects of his overindulgence in alcohol, no doubt. Scylla reassured him that he'd get her back one day and to just let it go, but Sara just huffed again and looked back up at the sky from the flat of his back. "You don't get it..." he muttered under his breath, each syllable creating a thin cloud of steam from his maw where his hot breath escaped. "It's not about losing to you, or the fact that you're tiny and a girl, or anything like that. It's because I'm just all wrong."

Tightening his lips into a fine line, Saracyn released a muted growl and lifted his head only to let it thump back down onto the hard ground. He didn't feel any of it though, thanks to the liquor in his bloodstream. "Mendaciums are only allowed to have one pup a litter. I'm not even supposed to be alive. Some weird rare exception or something, I dunno... But I wasn't supposed to still be here." The red boy scowled and stared blankly off into space while his world slowly spun around him, half dizzy from drink and half sullen from their conversation. It was the root of all his angst and anger. Did she even know what it felt like to wake up every day knowing you weren't supposed to be there? Sure, his parents loved him, but they doted on his sister. She was the one they chose, she was the heir and future matriarch. He was supposed to have been culled long ago simply because he had a cock and balls and wasn't mutated enough. That's why he had to always be the top dog and why his aggression manifested the way it did. He was a living mistake left behind by some loophole in family traditions.

"Saracyn" & "Scylla"