It isn't often that Draco grieves.
There has been one period of his life where he felt so bereaved he could no longer function, and that feeling has yet to leave. He spends his days plagued by the memory of his mother murdering his brother, often lethargic and too agitated to go much further than the nest his family has made. Dove will fret over him, Sommar will worry, and Demure will make half-jokes about possessing him to get him out of such foul moods; but nothing his immediate family says or does lessens the weight keeping him so low to the ground.
And so, when the fire comes and steals yet another of the few things Draco cares about in this life, ice cold fury rushes through his veins. He is revitalized in his violence, finding new strength where his rage was once white hot.
At first, Draco shied away, ushering Dove toward the border of Pangea in the hopes of at least saving her. His first thought was that Ghaul's day of reckoning had come, that they would all bathe in the fire they deserved; but when they were too slow to outrun the flames and it did not leave them gasping for air, the demon immediately understood some strange magic was at hand. As his home burned to ashes and another sprung up just beneath the gray and black, the ice in his veins solidified. His beating heart stopped.
When Straia calls, Draco doesn't come out of obedience. No, he is far too seething and spoiled to ever be an obedient creature. He rushes to the call because the ice in his body is so, so cold; and for a few breathless moments, he thinks he may be dying. The fear is quickly replaced by rage, so familiar even in its indifference.
There is already a gathering of citizens standing before Straia when Draco arrives. He immediately spots his family: Yadigar flanked by Virgil, Sepulcher, and Asphyxea. To Asphyxea's other side stands Litotes, much to the demon's surprise. He steps closer to his father, coming to a halt closely at his side.
"What is this bull shit?" Draco growls.
"Bull shit," Phyx mutters.
"I came when I saw the flames. What she did to Pangea . . . there's no sense to it," Lie murmurs, burning gemstone eyes setting imaginary fires all over those responsible.
They stand quietly, watching Yadigar as he beckons their family to Hyaline. A stranger appears to insinuate some bargain, but the three of them pay him no mind. Draco has little say other than a few choice curse words muttered under his breath, but Litotes steps forward, feeling protective of the family Straia has stolen from.
"This was a simple, thoughtless action, and doesn't look nearly as impressive as you think it must." There's not anger in his voice, but there is just slightest hint of contempt. He shuffles to stand closer to Beyza, offering what support for her anger that he can.
