There was darkness...

And then there was everything.

There was no dramatic gasp. No an intense eye opening. Not a paw to his throat. Only a slow rise into consciousness. Voices rang in his ears, some old, some new. Romulus tried to react, but his body remained still. He could only twitch. Maybe the occasional groan or moan, but there was never anything comprehensive. The leader was shut out of the world and unable to communicate. Instead, he was inside his mind.

Romulus considered his imagination and knowledge to be his finest trait, but today, it was going against him. Paranoia, fear, and the fear of being stuck in a paralyzed state rushed through his thoughts. What if he was stuck? Why could he do nothing? Were those on the outside okay? Questions swirled in his head, unanswered and unable to be suppressed. The lion could rationalize, but to what point? His inquisitive attitude and inability to give up would be his ultimate downfall.

Over the period of his coma, the lion felt himself slip... physically and mentally. His imagination manifested creatures and familiar faces into an internal story. The mind twisted and turned them into a dastardly story, one of his own creation and fault. In a multitude of situations, Romulus imagined what could occur with optimism. He tried to run, but could not run fast enough. He tried to reach out, but could not touch them. He tried to scream, but they never could hear him. Instead, he was invisible. He was nothing. There was no help. And, so, they perished.

A voice in the back of his head could only cackle as each fell to the floor, blood pooling below. 'Try again,' it beckoned. 'What can you do to help now?' The kingpin, unconscious, knew he could do nothing. Yet, he continued to try... and try... and try. Every paw that extended out, every call that was left unheard, and each stride was for them. There was always something to do. Always.

Yet, in time, he was growing desperate. The lion's psyche had grown pessimistic. Where was the solution? Where was the conclusion? Every story he had read had a rise and then a fall. It seemed that there was no end. There was nothing he could do. Not a soul could help him, only himself... and yet, he was damning himself even further by continuing. He was starting to realize the nightmare he had concocted by letting his mind wander.

Anger started to bubble in the back of his mind. With every attempt, his rage grew. His imaginary methods grew desperate. Romulus was growing impatient. In this time, the lion was physically vocal and spoke in unintelligible whispers to himself. Every now and then, his claws would phase in and out of their sockets slowly. His tail would twitch, almost trying to lash in it's immobile state. The lion was becoming more physically able to his audience, but at what cost?

The rage had subsided, followed by shame, Romulus started to blame himself. He could not run fast enough. He could not reach far enough. He could not scream. He could not be there... and that was his own fault. His command was for them to leave and he stayed behind, waiting for his wanderers to leave the monthly meeting. It was his own fault. It was his fault that he could not be there for them. That was what hurt the most.

Thus, he spiraled. The belief that nothing could be done had finally set in. All the pain, anger, and despair he felt was apart of him. Everything he had done was hopeless. He was helpless, lost, and without purpose. In such a state, there was nothing he could do. Not a thing. Nothing. That fact, unfortunately, left the leader to grow silent. He could do nothing to help where he was, only pray that there was an end to his suffering.

Eventually, things became still. Not a movement to be seen. No groan or whisper to himself. Just a strangely quiet lion laid before them. His mind had grown still. Perhaps, oddly enough, he had accepted his fate. Romulus had put up a fight, but was beginning to allow himself to fade. He was giving up. For the first time, the lion let himself go with the wind. There were no patterns, no means to an end, only the silent mind. It felt.... selfish. For man who dedicated a life to others, there was finally some time for him to self-reflect and let himself float away.

And, despite letting himself raise into the sky, imagining his parent's warmth as he went, there was a voice beckoning him back.

'Try again.'

The lion's soul stopped. Paused, even. It almost seemed to look back to consider what was left for him... and that, it determined, was everything.

'What can you do to help now?'

Slowly, periwinkle eyes opened.

Romulus Malus was back... but at what cost?

‘Brother…’

Weary eyes slowly moved over to look at his audience, but one being stood out from the rest. Byriath. The brother he had gained and the family, though not blood, he cherished. Romulus’ still gaze attempted to lock with the other’s as jaw parted open.  Only moments later did they narrow, as nothing but a gust of air left his throat and a soft, silent moan to follow.

‘Brother, are you awake?’

In an effort to move or even respond, his paw twitched and turned in it’s spot, only to falter back down to it’s previous resting position. His muscles felt weak and his body out of place, yet he laid perfectly straight where Plexus had set him up. The Malus could only move slightly. He had lost too much blood and had been out for too long to get back to his old rounds. Sadly, due to that, it was clear that a long road of rehabilitation was ahead.

Instead, he let his gaze settle back down on Byriath. Once again, he tried to lock eyes with the other. Shaky, periwinkle hues started to well up with salty tears. He wanted to dearly respond, but he could not. He could only stare and pray that the other could get the message from his tearful gaze.

‘I am, brother.’

Yet, no one could hear him.

[Byriath has/had permission to read Romulus’ mind during these times.]

For days she lay alone. Then they brought Rom in here and she felt sick. Seeing him there like that. Seeing him struggling and hurt. She thought him a friend. She was afraid for him. Despite him being awake, he was silent. Others gathering as she struggled over.

Injured form making it to his side and collapsing there. Trying hard to hold back tears and concern. "You will be better in no time.. I will make sure of it." She vowed, not knowing if he could even reply or understand. Sure, she was injured. Yet she was not going to give up on helping others. Ever.

actions | "speech" | attacking