Unable to cope with the stinging realization, Cobra turned his head away from Sorano and began marching back to his tent. He ignored Meredy's cries, Jellal's demands, Richard's pleas. Macbeth stayed rightfully silent, although Cobra heard him begin to move forward a bit before stopping as if recognizing the futility of following. All the better for him to avoid any more interaction. Tuning out the outside world the best he could, Cobra ducked inside the tent. Flinging off the cloak, he quickly discarded the jacket in a pile and lay down on his side of the tent. The day's events had piled up on him like weights one by one. Now that he was essentially alone, the pressure of everything was choking.

A few moments of silence passed outside, but before long the others resumed talking, the conversation continuing to go in circles as it had before. Tuning out only worked for so long with people in such proximity. Cobra couldn't help but press his hands against his ears again. As if that simple motion would drive it all away. It didn't of course. Not with his magic. And if that wasn't enough, the one person who stayed mostly silent was the one he wanted to hear from the most. The way it used to be, not how it was now. A soul he should have known so well, now echoing the emptiness of Minerva. Was this his fault, somehow? For not listening? Or…for listening too much?

Oh if only the day could be quiet and clear. Instead, the sky chose then to open up and pour itself out onto the earth in a torrent. It mixed with the sounds of the people, heaping noise upon noise on Cobra's overwhelmed mind. He wasn't sure if he fell asleep due to his fatigue or if the effort to fall asleep itself left him exhausted. Either way, he didn't exit the tent the rest of that day, or that night.