Lion Head Mesa the man that was used up

I tried to wrap this for you, but if you preferred to continue it, I can revive it and remove the wrap-up for you!

For a long moment, Aventus wanted to hold fast against his sister. Are you sure about that? he almost asked in the cocksure manner of a boy who knew better. How can I believe a single word you say? But after some time of merely watching and not saying anything, he let his shoulders sag a little. It was undeniable that part of him missed the closer bond they once had, before ambition and rivalry reared between them both.

Trust, no, he could not grant that, but they were what was left of Astara. Apophis was hardly more than an afterthought within Ursus, reclusive and silent most of the time. Aventus often forgot he existed. And Asperas, well, she was gone. Of Astara's offspring, only he felt he was worthy of Ursus, but perhaps Avicus could be once more.

I am sorry too, he said at last, in a more earnest tone than the sharp light in his eye might suggest. He supposed he was sorry, at that. Sorry he had insulted her, at least, not sorry for the distrust or for sending her out into the world. The world had been cruel to her. He was seized with the desire to ask what had happened to her tongue—she had always spoken a little like a dullard, but despite what he had said in anger, he had never really thought of her as one. Now she sounded ... worse, somehow.

He curbed the curiosity and instead spent the next hour rehashing events with Avicus until both finally realized they had misunderstood the intentions of the other, and vowed to be better in the name of their mother.