Did it sting to be avoided?  A little.  More than it had ever in the past.  Yet Séamus still gave the space he felt needed, against every instinct.  He kept distance between himself and his twin, though not as much as he perhaps should - he couldn't help but be a bother, sometimes.  If Kian wasn't so hardheaded... We've always tiptoed on this line.  His brothers had always looked to him with wariness in their eyes.

That brought him into the familiar confines of the Colosseum.  In the dead of night, he'd expected some solitude.  A place to train a little.  Instead, he spotted an all too familiar figure against the sand.  A lump formed in his throat.  Stay or go?  He didn't need the link between their minds to say she was upset.  A rare tremor of guilt stabbed him.

With a sigh, the endfield slowly approached.  He kept his mind closed off from her, respectfully.  No need to accidentally clutter her mind with his own feelings, though the look on her face explained why he'd felt so out of it recently.  Tears in her eyes.  He wanted to rake his talons across the world, stone cold fury for hurting the child, but he knew he was where the blame lie.  Mostly. 

He'd brought it up to his brother, before he went to infiltrate the Pitt.  He'd been the one dancing on the line, mischievous and vicious jealousy behind the friendly, helpful uncle.  He'd shattered any plan of utilizing the raid to bring her home first.  Selfish.  But they why shouldn't he be selfish sometimes?  Hadn't he lost enough?

"Did you freeze the dummy?" Trust Keona to have inherited Kian's affinity for the element of water.  He frowned, then attempted to nudge the girl, lightly, with his snout, to push her back to her paws.  "You're not sad about the dummy, are you, Sibi?" God, he hoped he didn't provoke her, but... Well, that was an idea.

"If you need to hit something, hit me, but I find a verbal debate is oft just as exhilarating as an actual fight."

"Tá brón orm." His words felt heavy, but he meant it.  He can't recall many cases where he had before.  All he knew was that he didn't want to see her cry anymore.  "Labhair liom."

Séamus blinked once, slowly.  His eyes quickly narrowing and watching every muscle movement.  He bit the inside of check at her harsh response.  For a brief second, he recounted the rare the times he'd come home, bruised and battered, tears streaking down his checks, to his mother's side.  That was... Countless years ago and she was gone.

Quickly, he took a tiny step backwards to throw her off.  Had her claws been safely sheathed, he would have been of mind to let her hit him.  The glint of sharp claws caught him a little off guard, though perhaps it shouldn't have.

Gentle as possible, he retaliated, attempting to swipe her paws and trip her. No intention to hurt her on the way down and if the move was successful he'd grab her by the scruff and sit her on his paws.

"I didn't say hit me with your claws, Sibi," he'd scold softly.  "... I understand."

"... I don't want to share you," he admitted, flicking his ear.  For that, he knew his brother rightfully distrusted him.  For that Kian likely saw him as a threat, a danger to Keona.  As if he'd take her away.  Tempting thought really, but he knew better.  "And I miss your mother.  Kian does too.  More than anything, and its not fair, it isn't but life has never been fair.  I think you've learnt that for yourself by now."

"No more tears, Sibi.  Sheath your claws and I'll teach you how to fight."