When he comes to, Shanirin picks out some familiar features from his surroundings, bleary as he is finds it hard to immediately put the picture of where he is together.

He'd punched a councilor.

Heart, that hadn't been right. He hardly remembers it now though, the only thing clear in his mind is the helpless anger that had overcome him in the moment. They won't save Umi. They refuse to.

That memory rouses him and he goes to push himself up, because he can't waste another second here, who knows how long he'd been out for, who knows what's happening to his beloved, only to find his arms stuck to his sides and his legs immobilized.

What?

With a groan he heaves himself over onto his back and glances down, only to see thick ropes binding his arms to his torso. Further down, his ankles are bound too. Though he is at home, not in a cell, he finally realizes as it all slowly comes together. They must've placed him on home arrest for his transgression. There is most likely a guardsman standing by the front door to ensure he can't escape.

He squeezes his eyes shut at this realization, his chest feeling hollowed out by the sharp blade of panic. He starts to jerk and twist, trying to loosen the ropes, trying to free himself, because Umi needs him, it's Shanirin's job to protect him, and he cannot live with himself failing like this. The ropes don't give, it's all in vain.

Everything has gone so wrong.

Shanirin feels his eyes burn with tears coming on through the onslaught of all his horror. He just cannot handle these blows all alone now. He'd not been alone since he were 17 and he met Umirin. There he'd been, a shy hopeful orphan and this grumpy, angsty disowned boy before him. They couldn't have been more different and yet, Shanirin had been instantly smitten. Umi had always been there after that day. They'd stuck together through training and beyond, fell in love eventually.

There has never been Shani without Umi. There never will be.

And now, Shanirin weeps because half his soul has been ripped away and he's stuck here, helpless to go rescue him. It hurts fiercely, his throat aches with represed sobs but the tears overflow from his eyes anyway in the end. He wants to stay quiet so he isn't heard if there is a guard outside, but it's so hard to keep himself from wailing in despair and kicking and screaming.

He doesn't know how Umirin is so good at keeping himself composed no matter what. Shanirin can never overrule his emotions.

He cries as quietly as he can manage for a while, the guilt for wasting even more time gnawing at the back of his head. His mind is too clouded to think clearly though, and he just hopes once the tears run dry so will his turbulence, so he can then figure out how to get out of this predicament.

He will need to sneak his way outside, but he isn't sure what to do from there. He would head down into the Forest alone to look for Umirin, but depending what has become of Umirin, if he's injured, he might be unable to get him back on his own, could get them both killed even.

And the council will not help him.

Perhaps he can try to beg for help from their neighbors. They're not on bad terms, and he knows the family to the left of them, just one bridge away, has two hunters living there. Surely their fellow people will help. If the councilors only view this issue as a matter of numbers from being too distanced from it, then his last hope is that the regular people will have more empathy.

Right. Shanirin takes a deep breath to center himself, lets his tears dry, calms the shaking of his body. The first step is freeing himself. The ropes didn't budge when he struggled earlier, so he looks around for anything within reach he can use to cut them loose. He spots the handle of a knife near the edge of their kitchennette table, left there from breakfast this morning.

Perfect.

Shanirin heaves upward to get himself to sit up, grunting as he pulls himself up, struggling a bit without being able to use his arms. Then he shuffles himself onto his knees, moving his legs back forth to get himself to the table as much as his bound ankles allow. It's slow but he fumbles his way over, staring at the knife's wooden handle then.

He needs to get it down onto the floor so he can grab it and cut himself free. Hm.

He leans forward and stretches his neck as much as he can over the table's cool surface, opening his mouth to get the handle between his teeth and pull the knife off the table. He bites down once he has a proper grip and then jerks backward, the knife dropping to the floor with a sharp clatter.

Shanirin momentarily freezes, he shudders, hoping that that noise doesn't attract attention. After a few quiet heartbeats pass, he lets out a relieved breath and then grasps for the knife, stretching his fingers as far as he can while bound, managing to grab the handle into his palm.

He feels the vice on his heart unclench somewhat when he has the solid wood in his grip, body flickering with hope at the progress. He immediately twists his wrist to start slicing at the ropes, sawing at them. No stopping now that he's gotten this far, no way.

After a bit of awkward maneuvering, he feels one rope cut into two, giving as it falls loose. He continues slicing this way, wiggling his body as more ropes let up, giving him more and more range of motion until he's finally freed his torso. He stretches his arms and shakes them out now that he can, sweeping the pile of ropes off himself, and cuts through the ones binding his ankles, taking a deep, victorious breath.

He crawls to the corner of the room, out of sight from windows, just in case, and gets to his his feet, dusting himself off. He slides the knife into a belt loop next to his soil scoop, his heart truly aching at the reminder that not that long ago his only worry had been his task. And now...

Shanirin shakes his head, not allowing the somber thoughts to overcome him. He'd cried enough, now he must make his way out and head to his neighbors. They'll help him, he has faith in his nation at least if not the council anymore.

He desperately clings to those thoughts as he surveys where the guard might be, if there even is one. Most definitely patroling the front of the house, so Shanirin makes his way to the little window above their kitchennette, praying to the Heart it'll be big enough for him to squeeze through. If it is, he'll have to be careful on the other side, as there isn't much ledge sticking out for him to walk along out back. He'll need to shuffle with the wall.

He pulls the window open and climbs on the counter, taking a deep breath as he reaches his arms through the window and braces them against the outside window frame, starting to pull himself through, his head going out next, then his shoulders. They get stuck, it's a really tight squeeze, he can feel the edges of the window biting into his flesh. Shanirin grits his teeth and persists, yanking himself forward until his shoulders come unglued and he slides forth, gasping as he falls forward, bending double at the waist as his front half hangs out.

Oh Heart, he feels his stomach flip as he comes face to face with the tall drop into the safety net below.

Shanirin shakes it off, and focuses on shimmying his legs out, gripping the window sill for dear life as he does. He cannot afford to fall, not now. It would set him back too much, likely also get him caught.

Finally after some struggling, he manages to get his footing on the thin ledge sticking out from behind his house. He plasters his back to the wall and steadies himself to start shuffling along and get to that bridge to the left.

He starts moving, slow and careful as he can be, his fingers gripping fruitlessly at the smooth wall behind him. He can feel the very edge of the slab the house sits on press into the soles of his feet through his boots, a constant, stark reminder of how little foothold he's truly got here. A light breeze blows past him and Shanirin freezes. He cannot let wind sway him. He takes more sideways steps after the gust is gone, inching along to the left, bracing himself on their den as he slowly starts rounding it, the bridge now in sight when he looks out.

Almost there.

Shanirin breathes a little easier once he finally steps foot onto the solid bridge after a bit more of sliding along, finally safely away from the danger of toppling off. He wastes no time standing around here, making his way across immediately, rushing so he doesn't get spotted. He reaches the neighbor's front door and knocks, likely louder than is polite, but he's far too desperate to remember his usual niceness.

A few moments later the door opens and reveals one of the hunters living there, Sairin. Perfect, hopefully this will save him some time in explaining.

"Shanirin, blessings," the tall man smiles and nods in greeting.

"Blessings, Sairin. Listen, I urgently need some help, and the council has refused me already, so I'm trying to ask our people next," Shanirin wastes no time launching into his story.

Sairin's features shift into a frown, and he runs a hand through his short cropped hair, "What—is this about?"

Shanirin tells him everything, begs him to come with and help him find and bring back Umi.

Sairin's posture shuffles meekly, his face shifting several times as he listens to the situation, at the end averting his eyes to the side.

Shanirin's heart drops. Please.

"I'm sorry Shani, but the council is right, Umirin is likely gone already. I don't think any good will come of endangering yourself and me or anyone else in search of a corpse," Sairin grimaces with guilt as he speaks, apologetic but clearly already decided.

Shanirin stares at him blankly, struggling to process this. He said no. How...but...Shanirin can't believe this is happening. This shouldn't have been possible. Their people shouldn't have been capable of turning their backs on this. Can't everyone relate to the horrible panic of watching a Soulbiter drag away a loved one? Can't they understand?

"Umi isn't a corpse, please," Shanirin begs again, his eyes wide and pleading, "I've lost so much time already though, he might be hurt, and I just—I need someone with me to make our way," he repeats himself, he feels so insane saying the same things over and over.

Sairin grimaces deeper and curls in on himself a bit, "Shanirin, I'm really sorry, but you need to be realistic here," he tries to rationalize, which only makes Shanirin flinch and step back.

Realistic? Realistic?! About what? Resigning to his husband dying out there without doing anything about it?

He feels as if he's just been dunked into a pool of freezing, icy water, roused painfully from all his prior beliefs. Is this really how everyone around him feels? He shivers, gooseflesh erupting on his skin as his vision blurs while this realization sinks like a rock through him.

"I know you want to believe Umirin made it, but surely you understand that this is a little delusional," Sairin explains further, "I don't mean to sound harsh, I just don't want you to do anything stupid," he concludes.

The words filter through to Shanirin's mind slowly, his whole body feeling numb and sluggish. He's delusional. That's what everyone sees. He's doing something stupid. For what? Trying to save his love? Surely that cannot be stupid.

And if it is, Shanirin will happily die the biggest fool of them all.

How could they all reject him? Have they no heart? Have they no sense of loyalty?

Shanirin shakes his head, his soul feeling squashed like a bug. He stumbles back more, says nothing else to his neighbor who eyes him with concern.

How insulting. How dare he act all concerned when he refuses to help? Shanirin can understand that this is a very dangerous favor he's asking, but he's sure if there is more of them working together they can all overcome the mission safely.

And yet no one will lift a finger.

He makes his way back to his den in a turbulent daze, the hollow of his chest feeling so full to bursting with the pain of these betrayals. He can almost hear everything he'd believed in shattering like glass all around him, the ringing in his ears so crystalline and sharp.

Sairin closes the door somewhere behind him and Shanirin just about makes it back to their home before collapsing to his knees by it, shaking all over again.

His body heaves with disappointment. It seems he will be going alone then, that he will have to find Umi and get him back alone no matter what.

By any means necessary.

When everyone else has left him for dead, Shanirin won't. And to think how fiercely Umirin fought to bring back a common good to everyone, how he believes in their duty more than he fears it, and he fears it deeply. He does so much every year to be the best he can, and bring as much soil back as he can.

And no one will help him now that he needs it most.

Shanirin can't bring himself to overcome the awful rage that awakens deep in his soul from that. This same anger that burned so brightly when he'd punched Bnirin. The fury at how unfair this is, how ungrateful.

He clenches his hands into fists, tense like a bow, feeling his skin burn, his blood bubble and boil. He can't help it. How could everyone be this way?

They don't deserve Umirin's sacrifice. Never did. They don't deserve the soil he turned himself over to bring them. Shanirin rises to his feet, the anger and awful wrath puppeting him. He can't regain himself from it, it makes a rash decision for him, his mind too foggy to manage protesting.

If they'll take away all that Shanirin holds dear, he will take away all they hold dear in turn, Heart be his witness.