He's in the hangars.
Cold concrete and echoing rock. The hammer makes a sharp crack over and over again and it bounces off the walls to stab his ears repeatedly.
It's appropriate.
He deserves to suffer.
Cahelium is strong. Ever, ever so strong. The hammer is laminated in diamond at a microscopic level. Magically bonded strength to battle one of the strongest metal alloys known to man – and even then only to a few.
Ever, ever so strong.
The dent in the panel is stubborn, the green paint flaking with each strike. It rattles beneath his fingertips, shaking much like his heartbeat.
It won't come out.
The goddamned dent won't come out.
The anger swells suddenly, eclipsing the sorrow in a fiery burst. His hand shakes as the hammer comes down again, the metal trembling at his strength.
But it won't come out.
And it's suddenly airborne, the hammer clattering and chipping concrete fifty feet away before skidding to a stop against volcanic rock.
And he no longer has anything to hit the metal with.
He automatically grabs for calm. His usual technique. But it is all too much and he is swamped. Grief and hate and hurt and loss and…
Love.
His fingernails catch in the stitches on his brow.
The floor is cold and hard as he slumps, back against the table, butt on unforgiving concrete.
The panel chooses to join him as the table shakes with his weight. Cahelium clatters loudly beside him.
The dent won't come out.
And part of him knows it shouldn't. Knows his 'bird should wear her shame.
His shame.
For knocking her sister out of the sky.
-o-o-o-