Northstar Vale the patron saint of disconnection

With nothing more than a scant and scoured pride, Siqsa found himself more irritable than anything. Fuck a ‘family’. But he wasn’t mad at Minori, not in the slightest. In fact, she seemed like the sanest one here. No, the Demon was irritated with the deception of tightly woven family that were just so happy go lucky that they hadn’t told him there were such things as challenges for rank, here. Oh and of course Minori won; he was caught with his pants down. He was too busy softening up and trying to ‘Adapt’ into a better ‘family member’, trying to be nice and shit.

Like, are we gonna be busy worrying about challenges for rank when there was just a goddamn bear attack, apparently? Are we gonna be fighting for rank when you don’t even know who the goddamn hell youre fighting against??! Because you weren’t introduced, no, because then you’d develope some kind of kinship. But with Ruenna, he had assumed the little lithe silver was a spy, for some goofy paranoid reason. 

But had he assumed any any different with Minori? He had to learn her name in the midst of him getting his ass beat by her, and that was embarrassing enough as it was. 

Heated from the memory, the limping Rogue walked across the current of abrasive winds, the chill of the oncoming winter breaking and over freezing the scabs he had acquired from his recent fight, ebony blue fur crusted in several places from the blood’a trails through it. Garnet gems downcast as he wallowed in fury.

He was best  left alone, for this moment in time. But the times where be needed solace, there was none.