Moonspear monster mash,

Hydra observed as he said nothing, and his reaction. Answer enough to her question, she supposed, able to read him as she was. Shifting her weight, Hydra felt out of her depth here. Again she was meant to play role as counselor, and she was no good at it. Tell me what you are thinking, she encouraged and invited both. Hydra wanted to understand all of what was on his mind, to better get a sense of what had happened, why it happened. 

Blame was not something she placed squarely on their shoulders. In some ways, she blamed herself. Hydra had expected too much of her brothers, the both of them. Hydra had believed that Revui had grown some level of intellect out in the world, and that Arcturus, for his time with her, had learned when to act and when not to. Even Revui she had expected to understand time and place; a wolf had just passed through with a half-eaten face. And then, as soon as she walked away, they went for one anothers throats. Hydra had underestimated the effect of the season. She had forgotten that it had caused their father to turn the cheek to them as it suited him throughout it. Hydra thought that all of that meant as much to them, namely how it had torn them apart. She blamed herself for being so naive. For hoping beyond hope, that is not us. That could never be us. That was him. We will never follow that example. 

Hope again. Would it not die? Must it exist in small spaces and continue to flare up, unwelcome in her heart as it was now? Had they not endured enough? 

The blame she set upon them was miniscule compared to the weight that she placed upon her own shoulders. 

For all of that, Hydra cared for them still. These errors were not fatal ones. These were ones that maybe now that they could see them, they could repair them with more than a simple bandaid. Repair them however it needed to be done. Hydra did not know where to start, and so she could only begin by listening.