After managing out that one sound, it appeared that Theodore could hear no more. It was as if that sound, that scream, that cry, was enough to lead him to deaf ears. Not even the sobs in which he tried to contain in were heard. They left trails along his face, hot and wet, and he couldn't muster the strength to brush them away. He knew that if one was to see him like this, they would see how vulnerable he was, how unguarded he was. It was a person whom Theodore was not. He was strong, he was powerful, he was guarded. And yet, in this one tumble, this one fall, with a wing to catch on a stray piece of metal, it sent him into agony. Who knew that something so small could have such a large impact on someone?
And Theodore lay there, amongst his blood and tears, his flesh and bone, and dared not move a muscle. His feathers littered the ground around him, almost providing some sort of nest around his crumbling figure. But there was no comfort to be found. There was nothing he could do to make this pain go away. It wasn't just the pain from his broken wing that made him feel as though he were going numb. It was the pain of his foolishness, his belief that he could take on the world. But with all that pressure, it was only a matter of time before one would crumble underneath it all, slowly being crushed by the second. It was just too much for him to bare.
It was only when he heard footsteps, as quiet as a mouse's, patter their way over to him. He didn't move, however, for he did not want to look upon the person who had stumbled upon this heaping mess of a stricken soldier. He held his arms tightly around his body, as if that were the only way to keep his broken body together.
He wanted nothing more than to pull his wings up over his head, to hide himself away from this. This was a scene that no one should have to look upon. A fallen warrior, so full of agony that was beyond the help of anyone around them. While one may be able to fix their body, their spirit would still be damaged. And for Theodore, his wings were his spirit, his sense of protection, his crown jewel of himself. It was the one thing that he cared for above anything else, for it was a gift from his Father. And because of this scene, this act that had played out before him this night, Theodore felt as though he had broken a piece of his relationship with his Father. He had given him a gift, and in return, Theodore had broken part of it.
Amber eyes slanted sideways, glancing over at the fiery red haired woman that stood clutching herself as if she too had stumbled over from a fall. Her face was full of concern, of tenderness almost, making one last stream of tears issue down his cheeks. Humans never seemed to cease their amazement to him. How different they all were when it came to certain situations. And this woman, Theodore remembered her. Gwen, was her name. He remembered her when she had approached him whilst star-gazing, and again at the Masquerade. Though their interactions were short, Theodore felt that sense of safety with her presence here to comfort the opened wound of his own being.
❝I––❞ He didn't know where he had found his voice, but it was quiet again, as it normally was. Though, it perhaps was a little quieter than usual. As if the sound he had issued before had ruptured something in his vocal cords, causing his whispering tones to come back. ❝My... My wing... I can't feel my wing.❞
