Hurricane of Mexico had just settled back in, his inky blanket of fur almost covering up Losa’s bright pastel hairs completely, absorbing all of them into himself, a sigh of contentedness had just reach the massive dragon’s lips when Losa exploded. Hurricane watched, helpless, his electric lanterns glued to the lithe marionette as the young princess first sprang to her feet, and then heaved into the underbrush nearby. The gladiator held still as a frightened fawn, his chest barely rising and falling as the girl catapulted herself into a fit so seemingly self destructive, the midnight painted warrior didn’t know WHAT to do. The colossal beast hardly dared even blink, as she stuttered out more words, but his jaw did not so much as flex, and the only movement visible on the titan was when a gentle wind caressed the obsidian hairs on his pelt.

His mind was blank, it was as if someone had pressed pause on Hurricane of Mexico’s entire existence, and all he could do, was watch, as Losa wailed and stammered out her words. The Nephilim sized canine’s gaze flickered back and forth, watching her erratic movements, wanting nothing more than to reach out to the frantic sunrise dipped maiden and soothe every injustice, right every wrong, and hold her until nothing mattered but the two of them tangled together.

That, however, would not work. Not only because Hurricane had been raised a soldier and the only way he knew was tough love, but because Losa wouldn’t accept it. The regal knight knew better than anyone, her brain wasnt wired to just, shut off and exist, she would fret and worry and obsess until she had every detail of every answer her scarred brain told her she needed, and only then, would she be able to rest. Losa was still hysterical, her lithe physique still bouncing frantically, her back turned to him, stammering out words and sentences so fragmented his racing mind could hardly out them back together again. In this precise moment, Hurricane of Mexico wanted to be anywhere but here. Anywhere but stuck, lying on the ground, glued in place, with his eyes trained expertly on Losa and his mouth stupidly half open, anywhere but in this state of panic she had created, drowning them both, and affecting them both so differently, an onlooker would hardly even realize Hurricane was in any distress at all. The warrior with the brave mask and the perfect facade, the stay calm and talk your way out training he had spent years perfecting, would make him look almost apathetic to the frantic girl’s plight.

Hurricane of Mexico had just begun to collect himself, he closed his mouth, shook the cobwebs from the corners of his mind, was just starting to speak to try to somehow respond, to assure the coral and chrome princess that she had made the right decision, that all of them were better off here, free. He had just started to pull his massive dark limbs close, just beginning to push himself up when Losa whirled around to face him. He paused, too long and she started to speak again. Talking about her magic, and Hurricane’s heart began to sink. Hurricane of Mexico knew the rainbows carried magic. He knew it coursed through them clear as day, just as blood pumped through his own veins. He knew they were connected to the tempests, and that they could... help each other. somehow..

Hurricane of Mexico had not been born a tempest. Hurricane of Mexico had not been born a rainbow either, and so the only experience he had firsthand with magic was when he had walked into that vortex a year ago, and emerged with a fresh rack growing from his skull. Hurricane did not, could not, fully comprehend the magic that bound the rainbows together, and connected them to their Tempest counterparts. The enormous gladiator had never needed to, the King and Queen had only ever asked him to do one thing. Fight hard, and protect the princess at all costs. If he had been a tempest, he would have known something was wrong with Losa. It was true he had noticed a change, but he had no way of knowing how deeply she had been affected. He couldnt feel it, and if magic was something you could see, well.. how was it magic anymore?

The obsidian beast looked sorrowfully at Losa, suddenly all too aware of how majorly he had failed her. And suddenly aware of how, she would have been better off with someone who could connect to her on a deeper level. Someone... maybe like Duma. It was true, something in him had become corrupted and twisted, but had Losa not refused him, would he have remained the lupine they all knew and trusted? If Losa had not been so caught up with Hurricane, and his own tangled feelings that, he could not deny begged for her every time he turned around, if Hurricane had simply done his job and kept quiet, could he have prevented, not just this fracturing of Losa’s soul, but the entire ugly business?

The thought choked him. It reached from his mind, and touched his throat, which constricted, and crawled it’s way like a virus, to his lungs, his heart, his stomach. Every part of him was infected with a twisting panic that accompanied the traitorous thought. It surged through him, choking out everything until the midnight warrior could not even breathe. And then, suddenly she was buried in him, sobbing, seeking the comfort he had so desperately wanted to give. But what.. what had she said? What had happened? When had she even moved? Hurricane of Mexico could still hardly even see past his own error. It had consumed him instantly and wholly. Hurricane’s failure of protecting Losa had not started when he decided to give her space. It had started, the moment he had realized he no longer cared for her as a guard cares for those under her protection, but as someone who had wanted her to love him and only him. Hurricane of Mexico had failed her the moment he had given her any choice but the one, that he could now so clearly see, had been the choice she was supposed to make.

The massive obsidian beast had been, up until this point, frozen. And while he had wanted nothing more than to soothe Losa, it suddenly felt wholly and completely wrong. Suddenly even being this close to her felt like he was committing a sin he did not even know the full depth of. And so, he pulled away. “Losa” His voice was firm, and even to him, sounded harsh, he winced at himself, massive triangular audits flickering back quickly. He finally stood, tall, a brave look on his face, his mask, all the way back on. “You can’t do this to yourself” he told her, but there was no sympathy in his words, no affection to make the sting of them perhaps bite a little less. “You are no longer a princess, you are a queen.” he reminded her. “You may not rule these lands, but you do rule it’s subjects, perhaps you made a hard call. It comes with the job.” He told her things, she most likely knew already. “I have never pretended to understand your magic, it does not flow through me, the way it does you, and so I can not comprehend how it affects you, but you must stop this. You must stop hiding and pretending and taking everything so damn personally.” His voice, through this whole speech, had never once grown warm, or affectionate, if anything, the more he spoke, the further his facade seemed to fall into place and the less sympathetic he sounded, and while it fractured him to the core, he could not allow them both to fall further into this quicksand trap that led to the greatest wrong they had ever committed.

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