Moonspear from a black widow's reckoning, your fortuitous spine

Lyra was able to speak some sense into Osiris, and although bothered the truth—as he was enjoying his mini pity-party, he accepted it. Nobody on Moonspear would allow for him to be a waste of space. "You're right," Osiris admitted. "It's just... hard," he huffed; teenaged angst was strong with this one. "I don't like feeling this lame." His pride had also taken a hit; he had only wanted to protect his family, and he had failed miserably. 

Osiris was thankful for the Lyra's suggestion, and he nodded. "I'd love to," he agreed with a clack of his jaws. Easing up onto all fours, as getting up too quickly had given him headrushes as of late, he then strode after Lyra.