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[size=9pt]There really weren’t any questions to ask when Moon saw Bub dragging a comatose body past the border. He assumed it was a capture from the moment he laid eyes on the poor unfortunate soul in Bub’s grip, and his suspicions were confirmed when he dropped him to the floor and promptly settled down by his side, because if theres one thing Moon knew, it was that there wasn’t a chance in Hell that body would’ve made it to the Observatory, had the wolf intended on eating him.

With pursed lips and a gently pinched gaze, the battered and bruised lion gradually makes his way towards the pair, looking uncharacteristically solemn. As he approaches, the scent of Sunhaven washes over him, and with it comes conflicting emotions. He fucking hates them. Sunhaven were a clan lead by two melodramatic psychopaths, and what they’d done the past few weeks left Moon drooling at the thought of their gravestones. The Clan as a whole, though? There was no reason to detest them the same way, even if part of him wanted to. He only knew the few that’d turned up at the raid, and this wasn’t one, so he’d show some self control, and he’d be what that bitch Marina wasn’t.

Or, at least, he’d manage not to take the serval in his grasp and beat the living daylights out of him.

Instead, he starts forward, nudges the Sunhavener’s head with his tail gruffly. When he speaks, his words are blank; nothing cold, but nothing kind, either. ”Rise and shine, sweetheart.” He says, ”Don’t wanna’ leave us waiting. Patience is a virtue we don’t got much of.”

/mobile + this is a Mess

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//sksksks i’m sleep deprived so this fucking sucks soRRY && mobile

☁ Christ, his head hurt. The lump of sandy fur at Bubonicplague’s paws stirred slightly, a soft groan escaping Pierce’s jaws as he blinked open honey eyes. He was still for just half a second more, cloudy mind clearing rapidly as he blinked the grogginess out of his eyes. Voices, there were voices. The serval tensed as the scent of the Ascendants registered in his mind, scrambling up into a less vulnerable position as his breathing became heavier, his heart beginning to hammer almost immediately. He hadn’t been involved very much with the drama between  Sunhaven and their former ally that was the Ascendants. He’d only been there two or three times, the last time being the time when he accompanied Buckingham and Marina to speak with Bastilleprisoner. After that, everything went to shit - how, he wasn’t entirely sure -, and next thing he knew, they were pronounced enemies and Bucky was launching a raid on the other clan. It had all been too much for him, with his responsibilities with the clan and personal issues combined, so he’d blocked it all out. When his mental health started on its  downward spiral, he had stepped down from Goldenblood and isolated himself from the rest of the clan, to tend to his home and busy himself with painting and flower-picking and all those artsy little “Pierce” things. He’d been entirely oblivious to all the goings-ons in the clan, and, apparently, his own surroundings, which was how he’d gotten himself into this mess.

Pierce wasn’t weak. Not emotionally, and certainly not physically. He had been trained for months in the art of stealth and observance and had been in enough battles, raids, and wars to know to be aware of his surroundings, and how to defend himself. The only explanation he could come up with for his current situation was that he was rusty. He was a dad now, and had been dedicating the majority of his time to his daughter and his artwork.

As his vision cleared, the former Goldenblood looked over those around him, surrounding him. Even if he wanted to run for it - which he was a bit too careful to do -, he couldn’t. "W-woah there, g-g-guys," Pierce managed to force out, chest tight and words coming out rather broken up. He hated the way his voice sounded, hated it, how high and shaky it got whenever threatened, and no matter what. It’d been like that for over a year now, after the incident that had left him with the large brand on his shoulder, his stutter emerging only when he needed to sound strong and assertive and not like himself at all. The quiver in his voice was a sign of weakness, and he was not weak, but there was no avoiding it. "You- you don’t w-wanna hurt me, d-do you? I h-have a daughter at home. A little g-girl. She- she’s all alone.” What would Clementine think, waking up to an empty home? Would she assume he had left her again? Surely, these people would understand a child’s need for their parent, right? They were enemies with Sunhaven, but they were still supposed to be good people- well, not according to the higher-ups in his clan, but they were a passive clan, last he checked, and the people he’d met from here had been pretty nice. "Please," he went on, trying not to think of the glint of a previous captor’s blade or the heat of the branding iron right by his skin as he addressed Moonmade and Bub. He could feel the tears that stung his eyes now, threatening to spill down scarred cheeks.  "I’ve n-never done anything to any of you g-guys, I s-s-swear." He’d never even thought of it. He’d never liked Bucky much, and hadn’t it just been that one Ascendant girl to attack him?  Though- hadn’t someone from their clan killed a vendor in Sunhaven? Or maybe that had been the Typhoon or the Pitt or something- his memory really was getting bad.

"speech"

[size=9pt]With such a severe lack of apathy, Moon settles before Pierce and watches as tears spills from the Sunhaveners eyes, and in all the serval's blubbering and begging, the lion can only think of Harland, tight in Buckingham's jaws as the cyborg scumbag fled through the Observatory doors. There's a stutter to the stranger's words, now, and as Moon watches the glassy wetness of his eyes  not an ounce of him feels pity. How fucking unfair was the World that this guy got to sit here as sob over his kid, back in the safe confines of her own home, and Moon had to live with the knowledge that his own was off somewhere foreign, somewhere dangerous, and there was nothing he could do about it?

It gets to the point where bile genuinely starts to rise in his throat, and, mid 'I've never done anything to you guys--', Moon breaks. "Stop." He groans, eyes shut and head tilted back. "Just-- just shut the fuck up. I don't want to hear it.""

When silence falls, he breathes. He thinks. He runs things over in his head and tries to ease the urge to make an orphan out of Pierce's daughter. After a stretch of silence, the lion drags a paw down his fatigued face and speaks again. "We're not going to hurt you." He says, and if that gives Pierce some hope, his next words are sure to kill it. "But we're not letting you go, either. You're staying here 'till I get Harland back. Or 'till your merchant ass turns to dust. It's up to your manic bitch of a leader."