It was early afternoon when Cobra started heading back to camp. He'd stayed down until the pounding in his head lowered to a dull thud. By the time he stood back up, Percy was long gone. He tried, but couldn't locate him. Perhaps the freak had been smart and toned down the emotions within himself after he departed. He briefly considered prowling the streets for another clue, something that could connect to one of the figures he'd seen earlier this week, but there was no more energy within Cobra to do anything productive.
Or anything at all.
So, with nothing positively gained in the day besides a headache, Cobra trudged back to camp. He tightened the guild cloak over himself; he'd had it on casually, but now used it to cover the frayed sleeves of the jacket from his transformation. All the while his thoughts swirled viciously, like the clouds above. The way he snapped at Lucy tore at him, the way she'd poured out her own feelings scalded him. The way Mirajane cried, surprisingly, made him angry. The odd lack of feelings in Minerva's soul, and the absolute chaos that had been Percy's. His own emotions were numb, whether by the events of the day or coming under the strange curse that had happened with Minerva, he wasn't quite sure.
Either way, right now, he just wanted to be left alone.
He wasn't going to give up a tent tonight though. Even a crappy tent was still a tent. He'd kick Macbeth out if it came to it. Jellal could wait with whatever report he wanted tomorrow. It wasn't like anything useful had come out of the day, and Macbeth had been there, so he could always make him report.
Just as he cleared the last leg of trees before the improvised campsite, a familiar pink-haired woman rushed up to him. The growing darkness not quite heavy enough to hide her worried face.
"Cobra! Thank goodness! You have to come with me, something's not right with Sorano."