He’d run. Trying to follow after his brother, after Citadel. And once he’d finally caught up, Gods knew how long it had taken—he rushed towards him, breath huffing out in exertion.
Iskandor's voice rang out, loud and forceful. “Citadel!” His turquoise eyes were unrelenting, locking onto his brother’s figure intensely. The boy drew closer, his bright blue eyes pleading. “Brother. I won’t ask you to stay.” Iskandor said, his brows furrowing, his earlier words to his brother, his mother, and Balrog echoing in his ears. He knew what he was here to do, he knew what he was risking. But he couldn't leave Citadel alone, all alone? That was madness. They were brothers. Family.
“I- Listen. Whatever step you take next, I’ll be right there. Whether you like it or not." He stepped forth, his frame coming close to his brothers, visage reflecting his resolution. “Please. I'm here, for you.”
