He watched her move to lay Jaden amongst the warmth of the flames (an embrace in this cold season, he liked to think) and stifled a sobbish cry. Jaden hadn't been his son, but he was still his nephew, his family, an innocent soul that hadn't deserved to die. Under his breath, he whispered an Italian prayer (not a Christian prayer, mind you. He'd given up on that a long time ago).
Then his eyes flicked over to Gemma. She'd cut off her fur. He'd done the same to his hair once, so he wouldn't bother commenting. He saw the scars and suddenly understood; she'd been through as much as he had, maybe more.
Then she spoke and he frowned. Fuck the world. I want you here. He stated in a tone that demanded no argument. He shuffled forward and brushed against her, to offer more warmth and to give her what support he could offer.
Sometimes the Gods are cruel, Gemma. They play with life and death as if it's a game. We're not blessed creatures. We're not their children anymore. He stated coldly. That just means it's us against them, though. You can't give up. You can't let them win.
For a moment, he wouldn't think about Alaki, about Miwa, even Tawny. Tonight, he was focused on one person and one person only; Gemma. He gave her a moment to let what he'd said sink in, to let her reply, but as he waited he pulled her into another embrace, this one from behind, his arms around her shoulders and head beside hers.
I swear, if you find the strength to try just once more, I'll protect you. I won't let this happen ever again. No one can get in the way. Not Giuseppe. Not Alaki. No one.
