Haunted Wood ain't no mercy in my smiling, only fangs

Alive, he said. 

And he went on. 

Away... to Rusalka. 

Alive, and away—much had changed, but much, it occurred to her as her she felt another part of her heart fracture, stayed the same. Hydra's gaze was void of all feeling as she looked to Vengeance, an unsettling calm about her as she shifted, stepping then in front of her brother. The rage that came from him found her, and as she looked to him she swallowed it whole.

Stone was too weak a thing for what was at work within her then to mend the break her brother had thoughtlessly caused; what was built in its stead was something that no time, no thing, could corrode. Revui; she would never admit it, but she had once loved him most. Hydra had placed him even above Arcturus; he was a solid, vicious boy... a little dumb, true, but he was able to learn—and there was no doubting who Arcturus had put first, even when at odds with him. Thoughtless. Careless.

She did not think it could be so now. Not after hearing this. Not once had he come home, not once. He had yet to learn of their parents fate; he had yet to learn of Speedy's lie; he had run away, and Hydra wondered now if he had ever even meant to return. 

Clearly not; they would have seen him along the way, had his path been that... but perhaps he might yet still come to them? 

Hydra looked back to Vengeance as he spoke, the dark shade of her mood not at all revealed despite how it rallied within, yearned to spill over. It was not for him. Not anymore. He had not known who her brother was; likely the attackers would not have known either. Vengeance and his subordinates had been far kinder to Revui than she and hers would have been to a stranger that had barged past their door; he had not acted in any unjust way, and now, Revui even deigned to answer to him. 

Rusalka. They had their next destination set.

What was she thinking?

Revui—you have betrayed me! Us!

But what came from her lips then was a different thought entirely, and one she shared freely: that we should make sure he has not lost his way, one last time. Hydra did not believe in closure, but she imagined Arcturus needed this—and perhaps, perhaps, she could be made to understand if she could see beyond this all-consuming rage, this black, fathomless void that she waded in. Why was it that those who she would do anything for, everything for—why was it that they could not do the simplest thing for her? For the rest of those she loved? 

Incosiderate fool; she knew Arcturus, strong though he was, would suffer to think it so. And he, a hero, would surely need to see for himself. Deny it though she would, vehemently, fiercely, Hydra did too—

Damn it all, she loved him still, and hated him all the more for it then!

The Ostrega maintained her composure despite her internal seething, and now nodded her head (both in mute thanks and adieu) to the Warlord. Hydra would not forget this, and thought better of the man for it for more reasons than one—but enough time had passed, and with stormwinds within her sails, Hydra moved to depart.