[Navigation note: Veteran's Plateau]

Was this far enough? Crux hoped so, he wasn't sure he could walk much further at least not today. He was exhausted. There was still so much that had to be dealt with now that everyone was safe and accounted for and he already felt guilty shirking his duty but things had happened so damn fast and he hadn't seen a space to even do so until now... The day of the raid had been a lot it seemed, more than he'd first even realized. He supposed he could have asked his father before seeking out his brother, but Crux knew well enough that his dad was stubborn and he wanted Dread's side of the whole affair first. Not that he was unbiased, no he was admittedly pretty upset. While Dread had been out probably frolicking around his whole family had been busy dealing with a literal emergency... And frankly, he was hoping to find out it had been out of his brother's control, because fuck... Their family had lost enough members already, if he found out anyone had chosen to keep ripping up their family tree he might be seriously tempted to put the few fight training sessions he'd had to use.

So yeah he hoped this was far enough, that Dread would hear him. He tipped his head back and unleashed a call for his brother. Certain he was at least going to give his brother a hell of an impression, he probably looked as haggard as he felt.

"Speech!"

Art & Code © Skelle 2022

Dread was tired and sore, admittedly. In addition to the whole two fights in one day thing, he hadn't exactly gotten any rest the night before. Tossing and turning, nightmares of his mother, flickering memories... why did they all feel so far away? Why was it so hard to remember the sound of her voice? Dread cursed his memory-- it hadn't been that long. In the span of the lifetimes of his older siblings, of his father. They had time with her. What did Dread have? They all lived with the ghost in different ways. Crux's call... it surprised him and it didn't. Dread can hear it, the way it echoes through his skull and tugs at something in his chest. With a deep sigh, he rouses himself from another fruitless attempt at rest. It took him a bit to close the distance, but it seemed that Crux had called from the Plateau. In all honesty? Dread didn't know how this would go. Looks like they'd find out soon enough. As Dread drew near, his gaze fell heavily on his brother. "You look like hell." Hello pot, meet kettle. There's no malice in his tone. Tired, with a headache that hadn't gone away yet, he stands opposite Crux. A knot in his stomach, anxiety rising... a deep breath to steady himself.

There he was! Crux couldn't help the feeling of, well relief wasn't right, but some amount of happiness that Dread didn't look all that great. Then came the guilt. He should have hoped Dread looked good, looked well cared for and fed. Dread was still his brother! Crux watched his brother's approach trying to keep the pain and exhaustion from showing too much. He ought to be heading back home, trying to curl up in whatever makeshift sleeping space he could snag. His leg had screamed all the way to Insomnia and it hadn't let up when he'd left and frankly he just wanted to pass out, be unconscious for a bit so he could just escape all the feelings, physical and emotional. But he was here, watching his brother's form approach him across neutral lands instead of at home were they both should have been.

"Thanks, I just got done drowning." His words should have been a joke, they were built like one. But there wasn't even a hint of levity in his tone. He was being serious. "We all did actually. Your family is all alive, thanks for asking. Stratum has a broken leg, Andy is sick and my friend did damage to her throat so bad she can't talk. Not everyone else got so lucky." There was an edge to his voice, almost an accusation. He hadn't known the two wolves they'd pulled from the tunnels, their bodies floating limply in the nasty water... Crux wasn't sure he'd ever get that image out of his mind. They'd already been gone by the time any of them could get to them, nothing to do but bury them. Crux sighed and allowed himself to fall onto his haunches, cuffed leg jutting out, he simply didn't have it in himself to pretend he was anything but disabled right now, feeling all the fight leave his body, he just wanted to rest, to feel okay. Heh, did he even know what that felt like? Did any of them, since their mother had died? "Dread... Tell me why you weren't there. Tell me why we're in a crisis and you're out here!" He looked at his brother pleadingly. He wanted Dread to tell him that there'd been nothing anyone could have done, that something no one could stop had happened. He wanted to hear that there was no one at fault, not in their family at least, he couldn't care less if someone else was involved.  

"Speech!"

Art & Code © Rex 2022

The words turn to ash in Dread's mouth. What was meant to be lighthearted... oh. No, clearly it wasn't. His expression goes from gentle concern to shock, then horror. His heart pounds in his chest, squeezes. Nausea grips his system. His head spun. His family... they were alive. "I'm sorry I-- what?" Dread took a staggering, shaky step back. His head dropped low for a moment, tears threatening. On the verge, though he clings on. "Crux I'm sorry," his voice trembles. "W-who--?" The words break off, shatter in Dread's mouth. His knees quake. He feels sick.

And then there it was, the question. A heavy sigh. Trying to steady himself, to provide his brother with the answer he damn well deserved. "After the raid, I lost a bet to Deluge. I was going to go spend a little time with the Raiders, I thought... I thought that by going I could get to know their way of life from the inside. I knew they wouldn't hurt me, and I thought it would look like taking initiative to gather information. I'm..." Dread paused, took a deep, shaky breath. "I don't want to have to fight them any more. I thought if I lost the fight to Deluge, then I'd be able to go there and learn how to make things better." It's the first time he's given it out loud. His full, whole reasoning. The whole reason he'd taken the probably-doomed wager in the first place.

"I hit my head on a rock during the fight. I was out, dad got there... he stabbed Deluge. We argued." Dread heaved a sigh. His throat ached. Gaze flickering to Crux's face... did his brother believe him? Looking at the shorter boy in earnest, damn near pleading. There's hurt in his voice and in his eyes too. Fuck.

Crux would never have called himself a good wolf, sure he took his role as a medic seriously and wouldn't ignore a wolf in need but he wasn't exactly a bleeding heart, too much internalized guilt manifesting as bitterness for that. But right in that moment he'd have called himself terrible, downright mean. Just throw "being an asshole to his brother" on his "feel guilty about this" to-do list. Because wasn't that the thing he was worried about? He didn't want to drive Dread away, but well frankly he was tired and sore and that was making his emotions pretty volatile. He shook his head as Dread started to stammer through a response to the news, to what exactly he wasn't sure. Maybe it was that he didn't have the energy to answer the question he'd been posed or maybe it was that he didn't want to see Dread apologizing; he wasn't at fault, for the flood at least.

And then came the explanation and Crux didn't even bother to hide his emotions as he listened, still he didn't interrupt. First was just his own tired earnest listening, honestly he had no problems with Dread wanting to spend time with the Raiders. It'd be pretty damn hypocritical of him. But as the story went on the exhaustion Crux wore deepened. Finally Dread finished and Crux sighed. "Fuck sake's Dread." it was said softly, more for himself than for his brother. He closed his eye, screwed them shut really trying to sort through the mess he'd just learned. And he'd thought his own situation was messy... Okay to be fair it made sense in a way his own issues still didn't quite yet. Crux could at least trace cause and effect pretty cleanly. "So let me get this straight..." He fixed his brother with a pointed stare. There was a lot there, frustration, exasperation, pain and hell even some sympathy. He wasn't exactly winning the "picking friends that won't become political problems down the line" game either.

"I don't want to keep fighting the pirates any more than you do." Dread could believe him or not, Crux couldn't care less on that front. Dread wasn't the only one who liked a pirate. Not even counting himself Crux had some inkling that Andy had been hanging around with a boy who was a former one, one who it seemed rubbed their father the wrong way. He'd even come to help her earlier today, same way Triss had. "But you orchestrated your own kidnapping?" He wasn't gonna blunt it, because far as he was aware that was what Dread had just told him; but he was incredulous. Had Dread not been able to see what a catastrophically bad idea that was? "You orchestrated your own kidnapping at the paws of a wolf that belongs to a pack that, regardless of how little we like it, is currently an enemy of the Armada. Can you hear how bad that sounds?" Crux sighed, lifting a wrist to rub at his eyes. Gods he just wanted to sleep. "Please tell me you told someone in Armada. Please tell me you told someone so the rest of us wouldn't have been left with the impression someone we cared about had just been taken. For who knows how long." He was partially pleading with Dread. Though based on the fact it seemed their father hadn't known he wasn't optimistic. Hell he didn't even blame their father for stabbing someone he thought was kidnapping his son. Still Crux felt he was being a bit too aggressive, time to pull it back.

"Shit, I'm sorry Dread," a genuine apology, "I just- It's not like I don't understand." He cast his gaze to the west, towards Insomnia lands. "Dad isn't exactly keen on my choice of company lately either." Crux swung his gaze back towards his brother, really truly he did understand. It wasn't easy being the son of the Warlord, especially not when your own emotional growth had been stunted at a young age by a traumatic death and the Warlord wasn't exactly good at talking about things like this. The pressure was inescapable and he couldn't say he didn't understand why his siblings might lash out or come up with very bad plans... If he'd been born different, if he'd been born with a working ankle would he do something that rash himself? Hard to say, he'd had to learn quick how to observe and absorb to survive very nearly literally. He'd escaped the worst of their older brother's abuse, not for Az's lack of trying, but he mostly chalked that up to the hours he'd spent learning how to read the subtle shifts in other's emotions, learning how to recognize the sound of paws on a warpath. Which meant he spent much too much time aware of things, spent much to much time with his own thoughts. That was honestly the biggest reason he wasn't prone to rash behaviour. Hard to be carried away on an impulse when your mind is so good at connecting the dots it's run through 50 reasons why that's a bad idea before you've even finished the thought. But then it wasn't worth considering, since afterall if he hadn't been born disabled their mother would still be alive and they'd all be a lot better off. "I just- I mean- You were just gone, no goodbye, no explanation. It was like-" Crux cut himself off, no that train of thought would only serve to hurt Dread and that wasn't his intention. No matter how much suddenly losing his brother reminded him of their mother. Definitely some trauma there he'd not worked out, and wasn't about to start trying! "It sucks! I've been worried and don't know how to react, the only thing I knew was that you were alive at least last anyone saw and were gone." Fuck now he was starting to tear up. "If the only thing I knew was that you'd been taken? Fuck Dread..." Crux shook his head, trying to fight back the tears. He wasn't the strongest, the fastest, the most social, he wasn't the best at anything. All he had was his medical knowledge and he wasn't even good enough at that to help Triss after she'd literally saved his life. What would he have been able to do but stay home and become consumed with his worry for his brother? Nothing. He could do nothing. And the thought that his own brother might have been about to let that become reality? Well it hurt. Was Crux centring himself? Yeah but he'd just lived through a flood, hadn't processed that yet at all, been incapable of healing Triss' throat, done more walking than he had in a long time on a leg that made his hips hurt when he did that and hadn't slept a wink since early morning, he wasn't exactly in the best position to be anything but self-centred at this point.

"Speech"