OOC: 418
The other canine's show of emotion seemed rare to Kaena—it was so often that the only thing Viei seemed to evince was fear. The tawny coyote was afraid of Kaena, afraid of the past, afraid of just about everything, it would seem. It was not as if Viei could be blamed for that; when the thing one knew best in life was a raised fist, the blow was only to be expected and anticipated. It was not unwelcome, though it did surprise the silver-furred Centurion. The hybrid woman considered that their attacks were entirely different—what had happened to Vieira could hardly be referred to as an "attack," for it had lasted far too long. It was prolonged abuse, perhaps from birth up until the time Eris had sent her off to Kaena here.
The hybrid woman's coal-dipped ears folded back, and she half-lidded her own eye, unable to meet the other canine's face in light of the pain she had caused the other canine. Would she, too, laugh in Vieira's mind after she was gone? The coyote woman did not wish for this to happen, and once more she felt a swelling regret for ever having hurt this coyote. Vieira had done nothing to deserve it; in fact, it was just the opposite—the pale-furred coyote deserved far better treatment than what Kaena had inflicted on her to begin with. She knew Viei was not likely to immediately detach herself and run sprinting into the open fields with her arms thrown wide; she was not entirely unwilling to the lifestyle she lived, but that was as a direct result of what Astaroth had done to her.
"What do ghosts have to laugh about?" she wondered, still with her muzzle buried close to the other coyote's face. She was quiet, too, her own voice barely above a whisper. It was the truth, though—Viei had life, and that was something neither Astaroth nor Sivaro could claim. The hybrid wished she might tell Viei something else to comfort her, but in truth she knew the voices never truly went away—her mother, her brother, sometimes even they still whispered through the years and the layers of soil over their bones to her. "Maybe they will, someday," the hybrid suggested wearily. "Time can make the worst wounds seem distant," she added, hoping it was some indirect comfort to the smaller canine. She rubbed her nose against the other canine's cheek gently, wishing she had something better to offer her.
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