He didn't mean to run away. Things had just been getting so tense between the two of you, he just.. couldn't handle all the shouting and apologizing anymore.

But everyone — especially you — knew what when he was off alone for too long, his thoughts would always get ahold of him.

Truthfully, he's thankful he's alive. That the sacrificial ceremony had failed because otherwise he would've never gotten to meet you, Ifa, the rest of his tribe, and Granny.

Citlali.

But sometimes when he's at his lowest point like now, he settles by the riverbank. Watching the river follow its gentle current, the occasional fish following along.

And he thinks back.

Rewriting the question like it had been done a dozen times in his head. The one he once asked Citlali herself and his own mind about a thousand times ever aince hes learned of it.

And he doesn't say it out loud until you've finally found him.

He can sense you there behind him. The nightly wind brushing across your sunkissed skin. Your soul delicate and soft and something he's grown familiar with, one he'd never want to flow into the darkness that is the night kingdom.

Briefly, he glances over his shoulder for a moment. Just to look you over before returning to the river underneath the edge of grass he had been sitting on. And in the softest voice he could possibly muster as if it'd shatter you if he spoke any louder.

“Would Natlan have been saved if the ceremony succeeded?”