Mituna was hiding. His mind was in shambles, it had been for a while; even death couldn't save his mind. Some people made fun of him for it, some people protected him; but there was one person who used it against him to make his life hell. He was trying to piece together what happened, why it hurt, why he felt foreign in his own body. His consciousness was too disconnected to create anything that made sense. He had the vision in his head of who had hurt him; who called him names, played psychological games, hit him, touched him in ways he actively resisted. He just wanted to be left alone. He couldn't bring himself to seek out Latula; he wasn't feeling particularly rad at the moment…and something echoed in his mind, the meaning slightly obscured by the continual bouncing off the walls of his skull. He felt guilty and ashamed, and some of the things that person said seemed so true and he didn't deserve Latula. He couldn't bring himself to do anything but cry.
Kurloz had been searching for Mituna for a while. Something didn't feel right. They would meet up every day; or what could be called a day in this sort of afterlife. Captor wasn't in any of his usual spots, he wasn't skateboarding around by himself or with Latula, he hadn't fallen in any of his preferred memories; the ones that took place shortly before his incident. The boy was nowhere to be found. Kurloz decided to root around through his own memory dream bubbles. He had only found Mituna there once before; when lost his helmet and was afraid to move. Despite the general ghoulish quality of the dream bubbles; Mituna had said he felt safe in them. It took a minimal amount of searching to find him this time.
The yellow blood was curled in a ball, shaking. Kurloz approached him, placing a hand on his shoulder. Mituna jumped and immediately squirmed away; sputtering nonsense, uncharacteristic for his interactions with the purple blood. This alarmed the prince, he signed a few questions at the heir, first assuring him that it was his moirail that touched him; followed by a series of questions. Asking what happened.
Mituna still, could only sputter nonsense, but one word was clear "chumbucket". Knowing that Meenah, while awful in her own way, had never targeted Captor. She argued with him a couple of times, but never hurt him. Another sea-dweller had a habit of abusing Mituna verbally, and now, Kurloz suspected, physically as well.
First the rage player did his best to calm the doom player. Gently taking off his helmet so he could see better, only to be met with a wound. Pieces of hair torn out, and an oozing abrasion on his forehead. Since Mituna was accident prone, both Latula and Kurloz made a habit of keeping first-aid kits captchalogged. One would not think that a ghost could get injured; and in most cases they can't. Mituna was special though. As the heir of doom he was basically Murphy's Law incarnate. Kurloz dressed the wound as tenderly as possible; the act of care and kindness calming the yellow blood down a little; the tears and trembling subsiding. Kurloz signed to him again, asking what happened.
"He….I didn't want to…he got mad and knocked off my helmet and hit me….I didn't want to kiss him, and he kept touching me…. No NONONONONO….stop…..he didn't like that…..called me retarded….told me I cheated on Latula…..I didn't want to though…..he said Latula would hate me now." Tears reappeared in his eyes. "NONONONO STOP, I don't want to….I don't like you…leave me alone….chumbucket….made him REALLY mad…..he kept hitting…."
More coherent than he would be with anyone else; still far more jumbled than Kurloz was used to in their conversations. He could piece it together though…and a motherfucker was going to pay. First, Mituna though. Kurloz spent the next few hours gently, slowly, and cautiously getting closer to the heir, testing the waters. After some time Mituna became a bit more understandable, he refused to discuss it any further, but allowed Kurloz to hug and comfort him.
After a while more, the prince escorted the heir to his knight. Signing that he had some stuff to take care of, he dropped Mituna off and went looking for the bard of hope.
Kurloz found Cronus two hours ago. He wanted his vengeance to be satisfying. Time to school feed this motherfucker on not hurting what was precious to him. He's been steadily stalking Cronus, well stalking isn't the right word; it implies that he tried to remain hidden; he hasn't. He's made his presence abundantly obvious. Looming ever close, Cronus had refused to meet his gaze. So he pushed him, tripped him, made motions to convey his anger. Cronus was becoming frantic, desperate to get away…he never questioned why Kurloz was doing this though; practically an admission of his guilt. Kurloz wanted a confession though. Mituna was too messed up to tell him everything, he wanted to know what this motherfucker did to his moirail.
"Look, I don't know what Captor told you, but he came on to me. And to do that to Pyrope too, he may be re- recluse, but he can be a horrible playboy. Likes it rough too if you're wondering about the injuries."
That was it. Kurloz knew Mituna, the boy loved Latual more than life itself. He adored the ground she walked on. In his more lucid moments he said thing about her that sound like the most eloquent poetry ever written. And to imply that level of injury was anything less than assault…he was done with this motherfucker…
Mituna was sleeping, his head on Latula's lap when Kurloz appeared, specks of violet decorating his outfit. Approaching the two he knelt down, gently caressing the yellow blood's cheek. The knight merely watched him. Thinking about what had gone down, considering the prince's clothes. She didn't need to know the specifics; smiling at him, she offered her fist which he bumped with his own. The two sat in comfortable silence, listening to the quiet, even, breathes of the heir. There was only one thing that Latula was left to wonder…ghosts bleed?
Mituna woke up sometime later, discovering the new paint that adorned his moirail's clothes. Kurloz mimed that Cronus would never bother the boy again. The words pierced him; tears leaked through Mituna's helmet. "Thank you….thank you." The two embraced, and a renewed sense peace descended on Captor's mind. Kurloz pulled back, removing the head piece, kissing his bandaged forehead. The heir clung to him, repeating his words of appreciation; the prince petting his hair until he calmed once more. Latula watched the two. It's best to leave the purple blood to this; he was surprising good at comforting her matesprit. His mind clearing; "You're the best Kurloz. …Pale for you." Kurloz signed the sentiment back, smiling the warmest smile Latula had ever seen from him.