Never Gave a Warning Sign

He was still reeling from how the encounter with his father had gone—and the torn skin, muscle, and fractured bone near the base of his tail was proof that there was plenty to be reeling from. Finding Satira again had helped calm his nerves for a time and had most certainly saved him from the heavy bleeding that had come from Ignis' attempt at permanently damaging it, but as he finally started to make his way back to the island, with his tail splinted and bandaged, the anger and the hatred from the whole situation started coming back. He might have won the fight, but nothing was really resolved and if anything he was just left with more questions then answers. He had already expected him and his father to not get along, but this was something on an entirely different level. He hadn't really known just how twisted Ignis' mind was, but now he had physical proof that he had made the right call in going his own way and cutting him out of his life.

Ciná reached his home on the island and paced outside of it for a moment, pausing as he considered going in and ultimately decided against it. He knew he should rest and even though it was getting late now he couldn't sit still, much less consider trying to sleep. He was sore and battered and a little worse for wear, but the deep seated anger and the wish that he could have done more than just rip off his father's ear still simmered in his core. With a heated huff he continued on down the beach without really knowing where he was going or where he wanted to go. Not paying attention to where he was walking with his thoughts being too caught up in everything this day had been, he tripped slightly over a branch that had fallen from a near by tree and as he stumbled and caught himself that felt like the last straw to snap the little bit of self control he had left.

Snatching up the branch between his teeth, he turned and swung it hard at the trunk of a palm tree with a growling, frustrated grunt as it connected solidly with the wood. Again and again he hit the palm tree with solid, thumping wracks until the branch started to splinter and break apart and a section of the bark was getting indented and torn away. When the branch finally broke and was left dangling, broken in half, he fell back onto his haunches and tossed the branch to the ground. Ciná panted and looked down at the broken branch for a long moment, not really noticing the slight tremble that he couldn't quite keep out of his shoulders. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath as he rubbed his forepaws over his face, unsure whether he was more mad at Ignis or at himself for letting him affect him this deeply.

"Cináed"