Feeling a lil nostalgic

Azure, absorbed the impact of her pitiful bonk without a word, giving a slow, almost imperceptible shake of his head as her paw recoiled as if to clear it from the sting of the slap. "Seems like we've got a lot of that going around." He remarked dryly. As it became clear that she was not going for a second, third, or fourth blow, he brought his head back level with his shoulders.

His gaze remained fixed on her as she took a seat before him, attentive, yet wary. "Basilisk was still mad, too." He admitted. Lifting his arm and rotating it to reveal the underside, Az presented to no one in particular his newest wound. In one long and jagged motion, their son's bone spur had tore him from wrist to elbow. Placing the paw back down gingerly, he moved to mirror her seated stance.

There was a tension in the air, a delicate balance he was careful not to tip. He leaned away from her and instead into the bark of a nearby tree, resting his neck and head so that his snout was directed up into the willlows rather than at the mate he had lost. He was being exceedingly careful, treading the line between expressing his own turmoil and not exacerbating hers. This sort of passive response did not come naturally to the prince-turned-warlord-turned-rogue. Damnit, why did it all have to be so complicated?

"I heard about the flood." He offered, a stepping stone into conversation. It was a topic she could take wherever she might need, from hatred that he was not there, to the suffering he had failed to shield her from.