There were hands on his shoulders, and a voice that he recognized as The Huntsman was coming through to him from a far away tunnel. Tyann stayed silent the entire way through. He kept his gaze on the ground, heard the shouting and muffled disgruntled, angry words of those who were offended by The Outriders mere existenceā¦ And felt a numb sort of āmehāness. What was even the wrongness of the situation, no? They were all, in a way, special, no? Why even fight with each other, she loved them all and that was what was worth it all, no?
It took Tyann a moment to realize that he was speaking aloud again, though his voice was not as loud or as violent as it was before. He contemplated speaking an apology to Raiden, the poor man deserved nothing of what had happened todayā¦ When Ivelda spoke. Her wrath was paramount to a storm, a colossus of fury and righteous disgust at the behavior of her servants. Tyannās cheeks lit with shame.
He became aware of her ā¦ Punishments? Punishment plans. To Korgan as his mind swam with the effects of the alcohol. A beat of panic set in, and even though Korgan had gone by now, as had Eike and the others, Tyann could only want to change the outcome.
He stood quickly, nearly toppling over before he shook his head and took a deep breath. His nose filled with the collected scents of Korgan, Raiden, Benedicto, Thaddeus, Eike, and Asher and Her Majesty. A long sigh followed, and Tyann forced himself forward.
He thought briefly of the cold way Eikeās eyes seemed to forever maintain, how they never waveredā¦ Bravery? Perhaps not, but for whatever reason, the thought was comforting- of a sort.
He walked to His Queen, bowed his head sheepishly, and spoke.
āYour Graceā¦ Please do not take Korganās shāp. āS not his faultā¦ I māde the suggāesston to go anā relax sāme befāur we came to see you. I wanāed tā celebrate āis return, anā did nāt think aheadā¦ā
He reached out then, keeping his head and face down, and took one of the remaining drinks. He held it in one silver-clawed hand, while the other reached back to untie his mask before pulling it off. A show, one that Tyann dimly remembered in the back of his addled mind, that was supposed to be of nothing but reverence and respect for the woman who commanded him.
He bore a nasty, gnarled scar on the right-side of his face, and though the rest of his skin was surprisingly clear, the scar looked as if all moisture had been drained from it long ago.
He kept his face impassively still, looking nowhere but down at his feet as he waited for Iveldaās response.