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The house was dark and quiet as Wyatt had waited for Torin's return - if he returned. He sat in silence and shadow when the other man finally, finally, entered the house and moved about.

Then Wyatt's figure loomed in the doorway of the bathroom and there was unmistakable anger boiling beneath a stony stare.

"You..."

And from there a tirade began. Wyatt shut off the water and ushered, herded, Torin to the couch. Their medical supplies were already on the coffee table as he had anticipated their need, if, and always if, the sickening 'if' Torin got home. Wyatt's tirade did not allow for argument or interruption, his words heated, scouring, scorching, passionate in their fury and heartache and desperation. He was unrelenting in his verbal expression of his disappointment, of how he thought power and revenge must have meant more to Torin than he did, and other scorching low-blows and hitting at the roots of his own worries and fears and..needs, desires.

Meanwhile he tended less than tenderly, but no less attentively, to Torin's wounds, shoving him onto the couch, ripping off blood soaked clothes, forgoing the numbing antiseptic - intent on making Torin feel every probing cleaning and stitch to add physical sting to his words.

Honestly, Wyatt was not one to ever show such degree of anger or vindictive sadism. Now that he was, it was scary. Wyatt generally was subservient to Torin, and the other man could walk all over him, but there were breaking points.

"-- and on Valentines day, no less," He huffed, eyes burning hurt disappointment in them, as it seemed the tirade was over. Or at least at a pausing point. His breathing was heavy. It had taken a lot out of him.

Wyatt huffed as he set to cleaning up the trash from the first aid supplies ans said dismissively, done with this, "Tell me something I don't know."

He stood up and took the trash to the trashcan, grabbed a bottle of pain pills from the counter, a bottle of water from the fridge, and tossed hurled both in the general direction of the couch. There was already a blanket on the back of the couch. He then stalked over to the bathroom, he paused once again in the doorway and called back, "Maybe you can take this recovery time to figure your s**t out and fix it."

Wyatt then entered aforementioned bathroom, slamming the door behind him. Shortly after the sounds of vomiting and dry heaving could be heard.

For someone who was normally so calm and collected, anger and rage didn't set well on his stomach. Now that the rage was over and severe butthurt - and not the good kind - remained, his stomach finally couldn't hold any more. When that was over, there were the sounds of tooth brushing, the door opening, and another door closing as Wyatt went to bed.

The only comfort Torin would be getting that night would be from the dog.

"With a legion of people who can't even agree on a goal or plan, no unification, no strategy, yeah, sure what part of that just screams 'victory' to you? And not only that, but risking your life for petty revenge against a prince before that. I threw myself between the two of you because you acted on rash emotion, and you didn't even seem to care. No, instead you swear to pursue each other to the death! Do you even know what I would do if you were to get yourself killed? Because I've planned it out quite well. It's kind of morbid to have a suicide plan ready just because you want revenge, or to prove yourself, or just plain jump in to things."

Wyatt sounded weary. These were all things he had said just a few nights before.

"Besides, the greater the light, the darker the shadow. There is no winning, no defeating one side or the other, only an attempt to restore balance. When one side wants more power, we get war like this. An imbalance where order rules is just as bad, because it will corrupt itself. We've seen first hand that there is good and bad on both sides. There is darkness in order, and kindness and caring withing the chaos. Both need balance in themselves, and then balance with one another. There is no victory, no winning. Not in killing. Not in slaughter."

He wasn't sure just how to achieve or restore balance, but he knew that it had to be the goal. Not total annihilation of the other side.

"You might not have that eye but you have your life," Wyatt spat back. "He was order, you were chaos then. He was doing what opposing forces are expected to do - try and eliminate the other."

Chaos and order were complementary though, not opposing as much as they'd like to initially think. But that was besides the point.

"The whole reason this war has gotten no where is because everyone cares more about their own little personal scores to settle than they do the big picture. Everything is too personal, and that is why they fight among themselves. They don't have objectivity. And you are just as guilty."

Whatever inferiority complex Torin had that made him feel like he had something to prove was more of a handicap than any missing eye.

"But more than that, this isn't about them. I haven't heard you say one word about me. Truly about me. Sure, you 'don't want to lose me,' but what you're doing doesn't exactly foster that desire. For revenge, you risk me. For victory, you risk me. You go out and you do these things, these reckless things, and you don't seem to understand how much it hurts me."

Wyatt was always worried about him. Always taking care of him. Always cleaning up his mess. Always doing damage control. Always apologizing to others for him. It wore on his health in many ways. And he never asked for anything. He didn't think he had to ask for Torin to put his own health and safety first, but he was just so reckless with it.

"I don't want you to have to do that," He said, "I want to trust that you'll make your life and safety a priority."

He knew Torin wasn't good at policing himself. It was obvious, or they wouldn't have this fight. As far as Wyatt was concerned, he and Torin's lives were all that mattered. Everyone else, be they order or chaos, was on their own. Perhaps if he cared more for others, and had others to call friend he'd feel differently, but his world was small, and the world could burn so long as they had one another.

They both had room to grow and learn in many regards.

"It's the chaos put into the starseed that allows the mind control. The more chaos in the seed, the more control they have on your mind."

That said, didn't that make chaos an unnatural state? At least...if the chaos had to be put in there to begin with... He was sure there were some that were naturally born with chaos...or those that had chaos blossom withing their starseeds naturally. But to have it forced in...that was unnatural. Which meant a great deal...when considering the officers of the Negaverse.

But Wyatt didn't want to hear excuses or deflect responsibility. He just wanted Torin to do better.

Ah, Valentines...

"You mean aside from writhing in half-drugged agony?" came his sardonic response.

"I suppose," He said, nodding as he got up to place his empty glass in the sink, "Once you're healed up, anyway."

Because despite this, he was pretty sure he wasn't open to any romantic overtures yet.

"and when you are-" He started, still at the sink, but then in a flash was behind Torin, and primal words spoken deep and growling against his ear, "-prepare yer a**s."

With things like they were, it was hard to tell if Wyatt has slipped in one of his many lewd jokes like he normally did, or was being serious. Or maybe he meant the planet. After all, Wyatt was a knight of....

It obviously wasn't a clear cut threat...'threat,'... and was loaded with possible meanings. He had been meaning to go to his wonder and at the very least retrieve his signet ring.... but he had also been quite..needy, not that he had let on about it at all. Their relationship was obviously still... Well, the pains from the purification and memory lost was a thing.

He wasn't going to be clarifying though, because he didn't linger long after saying it. Instead, he seemed content to fish something out of the cabinet.