Overture Downs It's hard, letting go

It was a hard decision to make. But Siqsa has seen entirely enough, learned entirely enough to last him for the rest of his life. He had seen Ruenna talking to some guy, all smiley and stuff. He had a conversation with the girl Kavik had fucked. And he had come to learn that everything good about the majority was all simple... 
because all of it was bullshit. 

He should've known better. The man might have been born under the last name of a Dragon legacy, but his name first and foremost was Devil. And Devils held grudges. And now his grudge was emblazoned steel against the ice of broken trust. The thaw was the resistance, the futile attempts to rationalize this mess, the puddle laying across his ebony blue paws the lies coming to rest before him. The grass which would spring from beneath  once this all came to season? The truth. 

But he wanted no part of it. He didn’t want to touch anything dealing with them.
But wasn’t he the coward? The one who hadn’t yet told Ruenna how he felt? The one who tried to change for the better? For her? Or was he sorry for even trying to have such a life? To find peace amongst the calamity of his past?

He stopped the swaying trek as that thought was immediately responded to by the shattering echo of another. “YOU’RE SORRY?” It bled across him, ripping free a heartstring and beckoning a response of his own in the vector point of where the initial yell broke forth from the frigid timbers. “What if I am?! What if I fucking regret giving a goddamn about you?” His ire rose as his hellish garnets skewered through the walls of stocked woods as though Ruenna had decided to throw herself in front of him, asking for him to consider others feelings, to rest, to take the yarrow everyday and try to eat healthily, again. And almost reflexive, his own gaze grew blurred as saline began to maul his corneas. 

But his brain rained enough for today, and he felt it begin to close off his emotions, yet again. It was obvious he wasn’t meant to speak them, to show he considered anyone meaning anything to him. They began to fade as his his view of innocence too began to wash away on the wintery tides of past betrayals. 

Hunched over, the hefty 2 year old wolf dog was once again alone. Alone and miserable, as he walked through the seemingly hollow woods, searching for nothing as he lied to himself over and over again, trying to atleast feel something, again.