He died. Czernobog's ears twitched, chin tilting left and down to peer at the bird down his snout, eyes thinned into shiny black slits. The more she spoke, the faster, the words began to melt together, and the boar snarled, snapping massive teeth at the tense air between them. "You speak nonsense, insect!" His voice, the way the words sounded out were nothing like his little act, growling venom to equal her own, not a slur in sight. All he could think of, swimming through his head and his vision, was the misery in Dragon's eyes after Tal'at had burrowed, still burning, into the pig's chest, where his heart slowly beat to a stop. Of the choking bile clogging his throat as he felt that last breath peter out, and the breathtaking relief of feeling a tiny body twitch and unfurl within the heavy crystal in his chest. "Umrę, jeśli muszę, robaka. But loyalty is in short supply," the boar grunted, leaned forward so far that his panting, angry breaths ruffled her feathers. "I protect. You only run," he called to her retreating back, rearing back and letting his front legs fall to the ground with a squeal, head shaking as if to wrench free her words. She had left - abandoned him when he was at his weakest, unable to move for fear of hurting his brother, had helped his attacker, hidden him, and she spoke of monsters.
"Uruchom, Siostra! Rot złapie Cię!" Panting, he toed at the ground, hoof digging deep into shoal. "And you can tell Tal'at how much you care then." Something moved in his peripheral, and the creature stilled, one eye flickering to glare at the jaguar who had, so long ago, melted his throat into webs. Czernobog's hackles rose until they stood nearly up to his ears, and he shifted, head rounding to stare Vicktor head-on. He expected pain, burning and skittering through his brain again, blacking out and losing his connection with Willow - but he didn't predict a... conversation. Black eyes widened, suspicion making his upper lip flip back, and he shuffled backward warily, only to stop, jaw clicking shut, at the animal's words.
I'm sorry, Czernobog.
He had thought about that fight for months, running it back through his mind, finding every error, every missed blow, and every time it restarted, tried to find the moment when the cat - practically a baby - had decided to attack, never deciding on a true instant. It had been... random, and painful, and frightening, the emotion foreign to the pig. But he could still feel his tusks piercing the cat's soft stomach and bumping up against its ribcage, and he stared, breath slowing down and evening out, until he finally straightened up, head to its full height, tilting his neck to peer down at Vicktor. "I remember you, little one," he finally murmured, posture slowly muting out into a facade of relaxation.
The rest of the words made him huff, black eyes meeting white, hunting for any sign of malevolence... but nothing lay in wait, only, it appeared, the same storm of emotion Eve had left in him, as well. "...you were young. A child. You no longer have this excuse, nor do I." A tiny duck of his chin, and it seemed the boar had made up his mind, inner writhing mass of tentacles stilling in slumber, green eyes peering out into the night, alone and cold. "We are kin, then. Two monsters," he explained, humming out a soft chuckle, sad and pained. "Flesh will always be split, blood always drunken, bone always crushed. It is only the weak who think otherwise," he muttered, casting a glance towards the tunnel where Eve had disappeared. "Friends. We have met Death together, cat, and friends are only poor excuses for family. Allies, perhaps. But I will not let you hurt the water-beast," Czernobog grunted, massive head turning up to look at Leviathan.
"You have invaded, it is defending. We have no right to be here."
