One Less Problem [Execution] [Open]

A'liran felt a flash of anger when someone's hand brushed against his shoulder. The greenrider spun around, too shaken by the situation and filled with adrenaline to bother even trying to recognize the voice that spoke to him. His fist curled instinctively and he lifted it, hoping to Faranth he would get to plow it into the smug face of Z'ia or some other dick bluerider, but instead he saw a candidate.

Ali almost hit him anyway.

He wasn't sure what stopped him. Maybe it was the internal screech from Astoreth, fearful that if Ali started anything, something awful might happen. Maybe it was his own sense of sympathy for the Northerners and memory of the few times he'd spoken to this young man, going out of his way to be even a little bit friendly. Isscer, right? Was that his name? He'd seemed like a good kid. Ali didn't know him well, of course, but even this level of anger couldn't prompt him to hit someone who didn't deserve it.

So fucking close.

Still, in his self-righteous rage, he wanted to hit something. His angry eyes remained locked on Isscer for several more seconds before he finally uncurled his fist and relaxed, body still tense and expression toxic. "The fuck are you doing?" he snapped, his frustration not exactly directed at the boy, but loud and caustic enough to earn a few glances. Astoreth again begged him to still his temper, and with a ragged snort and a frustrated stomp of his foot, he did his best to swallow it.

His eyes wandered back to the scene ahead, only half-listening to Isscer's pleadings. Ali felt no loyalty to D'ren or to S'kef, but shards if something about this didn't feel right. Ali didn't even like  T'shiro! It was just fucked up, plain and simple. He scowled, he huffed, but in the end, the stupid kid was right.  If Ali pitched a fit now, he'd only be making himself a target. It was a position he'd been trapped in for most of his life, and it made him so angry now that he could feel his hands shaking.

"Fine," he snarled, setting his jaw and turning to huff away, pushing past Isscer and various other people on his way to the back of the crowd. He would not watch this. Hhe may not be able to do anything, but he would not watch it. S'kef could fuck himself and die, and so could all of his supporters. Why were so many people pleased to see the conclusion of his witch hunt? Did they long for a victim, any victim so they could move on? Maybe someone stronger would come along and at least make their presence known, someone like B'run or M'bal..but A'liran knew when he was outmatched, even if he didn't like it.

As he walked, he caught sight of D'hys. He paused for a moment and shot a glance at the bluerider, making brief eye contact that for all he knew, D'hys may not have even noticed. For a moment, A'liran wanted to run to him for comfort, but D'hys just wasn't that kind of guy. Neither of them wanted their friendship (friendship?) to be too public. D'hys in particular didn't care for attachment and didn't want to look weak for the public at large, and Ali was content with that arrangement. No, they didn't need to meet now. Perhaps later Ali would seek the bluerider out for ranting and the general venting of frustration, but not now...not with so many eyes on them, and with A'liran's emotions so raw.

I'll see you later he promised silently before continuing to huff along.  He didn't know if Isscer was following him or not, and if he was, perhaps he'd get chewed out some more, or perhaps he'd be thanked. Ali hadn't decided yet.

Astoreth sighed lightly. Thank you she whispered to Zeianth. He wants to see D'hys later. You know how they are she said, relieved and exhausted.