In the wake of his mother's death, the boy found himself lost and shut himself away. Survivor's guilt tormented him endlessly, eating away at his thoughts. The comfort of home was no more. He needed to run. To get out of there. With no home to hide away in or a stable family member to consult, he felt lost. So the kitten went off. The escapism of The Pitt provided him the consultation Atticus needed. Sweeney successfully consoled him during the wrath of his emotions. Needless to say, the world hadn't treated him nicely, but their presence helped sooth his mind.

Finally feeling enough to roam without someone accompanying him, the former Tanglewooder breached through the jungle's underbrush and out into the desert. Unconsciously, his body led him towards the border of his former home. Wandering towards the edge of the neutral grounds, he stared longingly out into the distance. In the horizon, the trees of the swamp dotted the sky. Atticus missed his home, but he knew only foundation and debris was left. If only he knew there was more to that...

As he approached the border closer, a silhouette appeared in range. The blinding sun of the desert prevented him from looking closer, but his questions were soon answered. A furious growl filled his ears. 'Ivan,' his thoughts echoed. His familiar voice was no longer subtle or sweet, but full of rage. Atticus' delinquency and negligence to be there was at fault apparently. Dearly, he wanted to just ignore his call and go elsewhere, but he knew Ivan was dealing with this too. Perhaps they could rejoice over memories together. Maybe even cry on one another's shoulder. His optimistic hope were going to fall flat.

Atticus' ears pinned to the back of his head as he grow closer, traveling to his brother and his namesake's call. His gaze grazed the floor momentarily, noticing his brother's unsheathed claws digging into the ground. Yellow eyes returned promptly to Ivan, greeting him with a half-hearted smile. Introductions seemed to glazed over. "I... I did, yes," he muttered. "What's wrong with that?" He hoped his brother's ignorance wouldn't overcome his intelligence and would allow Ivan to see his reasoning. 

His ears pinned to the back of his head. Tears bellowed in the boy's eyes as his listened and sorrow encapsulated his heart. 'I have not only lost a mother, but a brother as well!' A choked gasp left his maw. With every blow Ivan verbally dealt, the kitten backed slowly away with his tail between his legs. Ivan's words grasped his attention, stabbing him in the back repeatedly. Even slow. Atticus's eyes squeezed shut, Ivan's wavering phrases overwhelming his system... but it never stopped. His brother held no mercy.

Atticus blubbered through staggered breaths. "I-Ivan, it's not like that," he feverishly begged. His wide yellow gaze opened cautiously, pleading for Ivan's understanding. Maybe even his forgiveness. "I needed to go." Every little aspect of Tanglewood reminded him of his mother. Seeing the remains of their home just made him relive the memory all over again. The crash replayed in his thoughts, tormenting Atticus endlessly. From the cracking of her bones to the debris slicing through his ear, he remembered every small detail. Aurum's desperate call, Ivan's bloodied facade, and Alice's reassuring echos in the distance. Even Selby's unnervingly calm stature radiated within his mind. In the heat of the moment, they crowded his brother. While they were attending to him, did they even happen to notice Atticus' ear sliced in half? Or that he just watched his prized mother succumb to death's grip? Bloodied and defeated, he wondered if they even cared. The apparent golden child felt alone.

Moth's death made him question his independence. Once relying on his mother, he was thrown aside to fight on his own. The grey tabby wasn't as smart as his brother. Ivan's intelligence surpassed his greatly, but where was his sensibility? He dearly wished that his brother could see why he left. Ignorance led him elsewhere. "Can't you see that?" he bellowed.  "I couldn't bare to stay." His gaze faltered momentarily, looking away from his brother. "Every time I walked past our home, it was like watching her die all over again, Ivan." In the meantime, Atticus was fighting to survive. He was growing on his own without his family. After all, they would see him as a burden after this, wouldn't they? Seeing the son or brother that caused Moth to die would just ruin them. Subconsciously, the guilt was tearing him apart. Her demise was not Atticus' fault, but the spared kitten still blamed himself.

'You are guilty.'

Confirmation. As tears slid down his matted cheeks, he heaved. Breaking down, Atticus' body began to shake violently. "Stop..." There was no use though. Through his lowly begging, Ivan's presence still towered over him. "I didn't..." he whimpered, words trailing off. "I didn't do it." Spiraling further, the boy let his legs buckle forward. With one last request, he let out a pained cry. "Please."

MERCEDE

It appeared as though the relative peace the vulpine had begun to enjoy finding on the border may be shattering for the day.  Glinting in the sun, golden eyes narrowed in thought -- this seemed to be a delicate situation.

The faerie released a huff of breath as he approached the scene; a neutral, almost cold, expression on his face.  "Enough.  Everyone needs to take a step back, now." 

It was right to defend Atticus as a clanmate, however Gael did not want to see further instigation; especially by the older members of the Pitt.  This appeared to be the exact situation he wanted to avoid with their newcomers from other groups.  At least in this particular case, it was only a child acting out in their hurt and betrayal, rather than an adult.

Regardless, Gael hardly appreciated the event.

Softening his tone, the Vicar directed his attention to the brothers, "now what's happening here?"

As his brother spoke, Atticus cowered in fear. The empathy Ivan once held visibly slipped away. With every word, he plead for his brother's mercy. His eyes watered. Similar to his mother's death, the world felt like it was crumbling around him. He felt his chest cave in and his legs grow weak, guilt overtaking his system. The extroverted boy was holding himself back, allowing his brother to stick daggers in his back and claw at his mind. Atticus was allowing himself to succumb. Did he deserve to suffer for abandoning them? Survivor's guilt said so. After all, the torture Ivan endowed on him continued.

Something had changed though. Ivan's intelligence no longer dominated the situation, but instead he threw out a final hypothetical question with damning rage. Atticus hesitated, blinded by his own bewilderment. Before he could reply, the flash of sharp teeth and ivory claws came his way. The Pittians who tried to step in were unsuccessful. Their timely arrivals were too late. Unable to dodge, his brother's claws sliced through his face. He bowled over onto the floor with a thud and let out a cry. Every slash of Ivan's claws caused him to beg, scream, and yowl for forgiveness. "Brother, p-please," he muttered weakly.

His own hesitance soon faded and adrenaline fueled his need to escape. Atticus' patience was wearing thin. Finding no end to the madness, he attempted to kick at Ivan's chest and proceed to pull away. The bleeding kitten rolled over onto his paws, pushing himself to a standing position. Despite The Pittian's now behind him and trying to intervene, the kitten remained in place. His pained expression faded. Concealed rage overtook his system, slowly driving him towards Ivan. Claws slowly escaped their sheaths, dwindling over the thought of digging in. The sides of his maw pulled back, revealing stained teeth. A low growl left him. "Go home, Ivan," Atticus spat, saliva and blood shooting towards his brother. "Now."

Despite Gael's request to step back, the kitten remained in his place. Unwavering yellow eyes glared up at Ivan. "My brother-" His voice faltered, thinking back to when Ivan told him he lost a brother. It was unclear to him whether he meant Winston or Atticus, but he took it personally nevertheless. "-is angry because I had the pleasure of watching our mother DIE." Sarcasm riddled his tone. Tears welled up in his gaze. "He doesn't understand I left to escape the reminder of her, our papa's wrathful sorrow, and his ill-conceived intelligence." He choked, ears pinning to the back of his head. "Can't you see?" he called out. At this time, he was addressing Ivan directly again.