[ they watch them cycle through the stages of grief—denial, anger, bargaining, and depression. acceptance never comes. instead, they circle endlessly through the first four, sometimes separately, sometimes all at once, until it's pure anger that finally settles in their bones. fingers point first at the defender, until realisation strikes:

what struggle? between him? elysium? there's no way death was the only option.

the caster advances first, grip tightening around their staff. the defender just stands there, shell-shocked, almost catatonic. only last night, they'd both been laughing together, making plans to celebrate their graduation from trainee to full-fledged operators. the guard was this close to mastering the destreza. that'd explain elysium's injury. ]

… If you need someone to blame, blame me. I'm the one who made the call. But you already knew, even the other night, that we were being pursued. This mission was never as simple as it was made out to be.

It's a lesson. A brutal one that no one should have to learn, but one that happens to the best of us nonetheless. Out here, anything can happen. And tearing each other apart? That's how you all end up dead. What you should be doing now is supporting each other, not breaking each other down. They'll let us know when he's cleared for visitation.

[ what he says isn't wrong. but now is hardly the time.

it's like looking in a mirror, almost. there isn't much more to share than that, but more importantly… the difference really is that they have each other. ]