Giselle never came back after she had promised to return with apples in hand for the colt. Silvano thought that she had handled all she was capable of, especially considering his attitude had been rather cold and bitter. Not that he cared. He felt bitter and cold, especially now that she had rejected him again. Or rather had not even bothered to talk about what he had written to his face, or at all even. He did not know what she thought and so he felt very disjointed and very lost. What she thought of him.. he wanted to know so badly, and it did not help that she had met someone she called a prince. But Silvano knew better. Inferni was not a kingdom. If anyone was a prince by her standards it was he, son of Savina. But that was not good enough, especially since he did not call himself a prince. He had a different ego than that.

Silvano could not stand his feelings of jealousy. He was not a jealous kind of guy, especially when he saw how close his siblings were getting to other people. He did not mind at all; they were his siblings. But Giselle to call a stranger a prince and talk about him like that was just too much. Oh, he knew he ought not to feel this way, but he just could not help it. Whenever he thought about Giselle meeting this coyote from Inferni, he felt shards of angry jealousy in his heart. And he hated himself whenever he felt like this.

He was reclining on the couch in the common room downstairs, holding a book open in his lap. But he was not reading the words on the page. His hands were clenched tightly on the book as he stared at the wooden floor. His mind was imagining those two, even though it was innocent enough, it still bothered him. Silvano had no idea why he felt like this, nor why he wanted to rip off the coyote's head. Sighing, he closed the book in his lap and rubbed at his eyes. Silvano did not want to think about her with anyone else. It hurt, even though she did not want to be with him at all. He was no prince. Hell, he was no knight either.

He heard her before she came into the common room. Normally he would have been elated to see her, but just her laughter made his own anger flare. His ears flattened on his head as the pair of them, she and her stoat, practically skipped in. Silvano rubbed at the back of his head, feeling a headache coming on for some reason or another. Normally, the concern in her voice would have made him apologize. But at that moment, he was just feeling too jealous and his mood was soured. No amount of sunshine or good books would make him happy at that moment, and just the sight of that pretty girl made him think of how she spoke of that coyote, with stars in her eyes.

The stoat seemed to scramble up to his leg, and the Sadira looked darkly down on the creature. He would not kick the animal, but he did send a cold sidelong glance at the young pale woman. He saw the flowers in her hands and the fruits, and all he could give her was that same look. "Fine," he said flatly, resting his hands on the book in his lap, feeling the constraints of the clothes he had put on just to impress her. Not that it had done anything in that aspect, but still he tried.

"So who gave you those flowers?" he asked, feigning interest as he tried to hide his concern and jealousy. His fingers wove under the cover of the book, tensing on the thick binding. "Was it your prince?" His voice was more than a little bit bitter. Silvano knew that the stoat was probably chattering angrily near his leg, but he didn't care. He was just hurt and he was tired of being jealous. Giselle standing so close to him that he could smell the flowers didn't help at all.

Oh, now he felt guilty. He accused her of seeing someone else, when she wasn't his to be worrying about. He rubbed at his eyes again, frustrated with everything. Himself, her, everything. It was tiring, being worried about his brother and Anu, and then having Giselle here to mock him almost every turn when all he wanted was to have his feelings acknowledged by her to his face. And she just kept on her merry little way day by day pretending he never said a thing and that none of it mattered in the long run. She could just tell him to back off and keep his intentions to himself. But still she did not, and still he suffered. This was not any kind of story that Silvano wanted to be part of, at least not as the main character. He would rather watch this all than feel it himself.

Tux chittered away, rather angrily now. But Silvano could not find it in him to care even a little bit. He rose to his feet in a huff, holding the book in a single hand as he waved his free hand around. It was part of his nature, his Italian heritage. "Nothing's troubling me!" he said, rather loudly. "Why should anything be bothering me?" Silvano was feeling bitter, stranger than he ever did. It was not smart to take it out on Giselle but it was almost entirely her fault in his eyes. He looked at her accusingly, as though she ought to know exactly what was wrong with him.

"Nothing's going on. I just go through the paces and hope my family and friends are okay." His look was growing more angry, as all of his feelings bore through. "My brother has been taken, and you're picking flowers to make us all feel better?" He waved his hands in the air and paced around in a small little area by the couch, looking anxious. He was trying not to yell at her. He didn't want to.

He looked at her as though seeing her for the first time. His movements stopped and he just stared at her over his shoulder with his emerald eyes unintentionally at their most piercing. He looked at her with no smile to be seen, and his fists were clenched, both with and without the book. And Silvano knew that she was right. She was right, of course. But what could any of them do to save the others taken and held? He gave a growl, letting it echo out of his throat like a low rumble of thunder as he turned away from her, hands again at his eyes. He was fighting tears, which he ought not to have. He was a man and he was not allowed any more to shed a single tear, especially in front of Giselle. That was just not okay anymore. But she was right, and he hated that she was right about.

Throwing the book in his hand at the couch, he let it fall into it's disarray. It had fallen open, revealing the yellowing paper within. His hands kept rubbing at his eyes and he fought the need to yell, apologize, and confess all at once. It was a terrifying feeling within him. He felt so damn weak before Giselle. Whatever she did to him it wrecked havoc on his system. Everything was out of sync. "And how are flowers going to make things better?" he said loudly, hands running down his neck as he fought the urges in his body that were overwhelming his senses. Rarely did he ever feel so conflicted in a single moment in his life. If ever.

She mentioned his name again, and Silvano felt himself freeze up. Why did she have to mention him? He was already having a heard enough time dealing with everything, including only the thought of the two of them. "Is that who you want your prince to be? Some coyote who won't look twice at you?" he asked, back turned to the woman as he fought feminine tears. His hand went to the arm on the opposite side, rubbing at it as the Sadira male stared at the wall with blank eyes.

She persisted as he continued to have his back to her. He could feel the way she must have been looking at him. Probably in disgust, in annoyance. Everything he did not want her to see him as. But she was looking at him that way, and he knew it. Maybe this was the legacy that his mother and father had given him. Was his mother's legendary battle rage in a different form in him? If it was, it came out in slow strands, building up a monstrous storm that he felt raging inside of him. He was no warrior. Silvano was a scholar, and his torture was entirely emotional. Physical, he knew, he could handle, but emotional was far too much to handle. And, oh god, how she must have been looking at him then. But he was too afraid to turn around and see it in her pretty blue eyes. Looking at him, accusing him of his crimes.

He clenched and unclenched his fists in a fit of uncertainty. How to proceed? It was new to him, and it was far too confusing to let his emotions guide him this time. There were too many and they all fought to be the dominant players in his head. Then she said words that felt like true arrows. Almost like a poison spreading into his heart, the Sadira could feel it latching onto his heart and seeping in like dark tendrils. The words stung. Oh, yes, they stung. Silvano did not know what to say to that, to prove otherwise. But he did not want to be the gentleman, when she was the one playing the coquette. "Gentleman, huh?" he managed at last, voice low, but not as he had days before, when they shared their beautiful dance among the fireflies.

Silvano gave a wobbly sigh, as though he was fighting his own tears. And he was, but he managed to keep them down and out of the corners of his eyes. Leaning over, the young man took the book into his hand again, closing it gently like an old friend ought to. He then turned to the woman and faced her full on with a hard face. This was manhood, and he hated it so much. Being a man meant not crying, and all he wanted to do was hide in the darkness and sob his heart out. Emerald eyes hard, he looked at Giselle and took the sight in. The flowers were on the floor, all disarrayed now that they were out of her arms. Tux was hiding in her skirt, and her own visage was a memento of beautiful chaos. "He's more of a gentleman than I am. And I make you feel some indescribable way. Why don't I just save you the trouble, then?" So Silvano brushed past her, keeping himself scant inches away from her. Not once did the young male look at the young woman, eyes looking beyond her, as though she weren't there.

This would just make it easy for her, for him. To deal with her not loving him, he knew he had to let go of it all, and forget her, and get away from her. The cloud that covered him was too broad, too wide, too dark. She was light and beauty, and he found himself too beastly to let her see him. He was too monstrous to let her see him cry.