Got those jet pack blues

Vitus felt his mother's sorrow against his shoulder, felt her kiss against his cheek and he merely dipped his head under her chin to offer even more comfort if he could. It was in these moments that he felt so clumsy, unknowing how to properly cheer someone up. It was another curse for his lack of words, his lack of vocabulary made it hard to offer sympathies and his words. The young Armada felt Archelaus' eyes on him, and he looked up just briefly to meet his brother's gaze. His brows pulled together before he dipped his head to him and turned back to his mother, waiting for the terrible news that he believed would come. When Athena began to speak a soundless gasp wuffed through his lungs, his bright eyes so wide as he pressed against his mother some more. With his shoulder against his mother, he would remain the stable wall for her to lean on in these unstable times. Pain laced through him like acid in his veins, and he nearly trembled. Roman was dead, their home swept from under them. The only home Vitus had ever known? Where would they go now?

When Amalia began to speak her agony and guilt sliced deep in his heart, and he would step forward just as she stepped back. Brows would furrow, eyes would shine a sheen of unshed tears. "'s not your fault..." Soft voice whispered over the silence, staring at her but not moving from his mother's side. "'ama, please, jus'...'s not your fault..." Vitus didn't know what else to say, and with wide eyes he searched his brothers, hoping they might have the vocabulary to help their small but large hearted mother. With a small, nearly silent whimper he would press harder against his mother. As tears continued to fall, he would reach over to try and lick at Athena's cheek, to help sooth the sadness that flooded out of her. "Ya got us, ma..." His unused voice would rasp as he tried to nuzzle under her chin again. They would stick together, no matter the odds.

"Burn Baby Burn"