Peregrine repeated what Crete’s shrug had clearly implied out loud, and Crete watched with an apologetic lowering of his head, as his brother’s brow furrowed what Crete knew to be perplexity. Guilt bore down heavily upon Crete’s shoulders. He should have tried to find Osprey, Atticus even - though it had been hard to think let alone move with Tyrannus’ gnashing teeth inches away from his face, and in instances more confusing (and potentially terrifying) his neck. Though the new patriarch of the Falcon’s had never actually bit him, feeling the enraged demon’s - that must have possessed his brother - hot breath saturating the strands of fur at the nape of neck had been too close for comfort in Crete’s opinion. Crete had never been made to feel so incompetent in a matter of seconds as he had when Tyrannus had chased him from his home and he (Crete) couldn’t even make sense of his chaotic and spinning thoughts. For all his intelligence it had been utterly worthless in those split, pivotal seconds. Crete had been reduced to the basics of his nature: instincts. Fight or Flee; and fighting Tyrannus had been out of the question. Crete, though he could have been considered built like a warrior, was not malevolent. Though he had acquired certain skills of moving as silent as his vocal cords made his voice, paired with a fair amount of agility. Those skills were useful in hunting (or spying, though he didn’t agree with such a thing) but little else. Mostly it just tended to unnerve wolves who were not used to Crete’s phantom-like silence.
Crete was broken from his thoughts and brought back to the more pressing present when Peregrine inquired once more, this time in regards to Atticus - the only other male in their litter. Again, Crete was filled with the unpleasant task of having to tell Peregrine, once more, that he did not know. As far as Crete had been aware - no one had came after him, though in all fairness he had not lingered, tearing across the barren, snow covered lands, eager to put as much distance between his demonic brother and himself. Something…somewhere had changed Tyrannus. He had always been the cool older brother, the handsome one that all the girls fawned and giggled over, the older brother that you wanted to be when you grew up, full of life and laughter and epic tales of battle. That brother did not exist anymore, and Crete could not help but feel that they should be mourning him as well as Aether; because Tyrannus’ spiritual death and change was measurably worse than Aether’s spirit’s ascent to Olympus. Crete inhaled deeply, his chest rising and falling as he exhaled in a soft sigh, shaking his head, in attempts to bring similar news in regards to Atticus’ whereabouts as he had Osprey’s. There was nothing quite like the crushing guilt of letting Peregrine down, nor the disappointment in his irresponsibility. He had been responsible for them and he had failed (though likely most of Crete’s siblings likely thought that they were responsible for him).
Crete watched Peregrine pace back and forth, ears slicking back to his skull in disgust at himself. At how weak he was. Just because he was mute didn’t mean he couldn’t have stood up to Tyrannus. Crete had been skeptical when Tyrannus had outcast Peregrine, and knew, thanks to Peregrine that it was because Tyrannus thought of them as ‘threats’. Aether was probably enraged in whatever form he had taken when he had passed; which led to the underlining question that they would probably never find an answer too: had Aether noticed this behavior, seething under Tyrannus’ surface for years? Was that the reason he had never been risen to leadership before their father’s passing? It was possible, but useless to contemplate. They would never be welcomed back and though it was painful to admit it even to himself, Crete wasn’t so sure he ever wanted to go back even if someone else took it away from Tyrannus.
Despite the emotionally draining and widely ranged mood swings Crete had been suffering from - likely a combination of poor sleep and the toll being betrayed by a loved one (having left quite a scar) - Peregrine’s talk of karma “fucking Tyrannus in the ass” elicited a silent snicker from Crete, and a crass sneer that pulled at the edges of the mute’s lips. Indeed, Crete hoped that Lady Karma wasn’t gentle with him either. Tyrannus didn’t deserve to be manhandled gently - no usurper, betrayer of kin deserved anything so soft as ‘gentle’.