All Silva could do right then in that very moment was stand there, staring at the gut wrenching, the devastating aftermath that was left behind in the wake of the Whip's bloodlust filled fury. It was enough to make any with a weak stomach lose their lunch and those with a weak heart faint from the scene. Blood and carnage lay every which way, no matter where Silva looked, he saw red. Red mixed in with the mud, left over from the ice now melted away, red dying the snow that lay on the ground, yet to disappear. Moans of pain could be heard here and there, and Silva let his eyes wander, looking at everything, taking the sight in, and wishing at the same time he could erase this scene from his mind, from its very existence. But he could not, and there was nothing that he could do to fix this.<br/><br/>Figures lay here and there, some with wounds no bigger than a lost finger or a few cuts, but sadly others were not so lucky, their bodies lying in parts, limbs severed from torsos and heads detached. It was extremely gruesome, and Silva was left speechless. Even if he could speak, what was it that he would even say at a time like this? He wasn't so sheltered that he knew not of death, but this was the first time he'd experienced such a large scale fight. It hadn't meant to be like this, all these deaths weren't supposed to have happened. All Silva had wanted to do was look for his brother, and now he was standing in the wreckage left behind by what could have passed for a small sized skirmish. To be honest, he was too stunned to speak, too shocked to cry even. He could barely take in the air into his lungs, his breaths short and shallow, and the stench of the deceased and the blood that filled the air was starting to get to him.<br/><br/>Holding a hand to his head, his eyes focused on the woman that he'd helped defeat the large troll, now kneeling down next to the man that had bad mouthed his brother. The woman was using mud to keep the man from bleeding out and to be honest, Silva couldn't help but feel a bit of disgust at her attempts to keep that scum alive. After all, he had threatened Rune, and that was not something that Silva was just about to let slip by just because the ratty little man got hurt. He deserved to cry every one of those salty tears, deserved to grovel in the mud like a worm. Or at least, that was the sense of justice in which Silva was feeling right then. Yes, it was true that death was not to be dished out just because one thought another deserved it, as one was not to be the judge of life and death, and it was another fact that it was wrong to wish pain and confliction on others, but Silva did not heed these factors when it came to his family, especially his brother.<br/><br/>He focused his attention on the woman, who had saved his life. If she hadn't stopped the Whip, most likely he would have been a goner. That weapon of the troll had been moving too fast for even his trained eyes to see, so for this, Silva was grateful. Even so, he had to move on, as he had priorities to this. He didn't have time to lollygag around here and dawdle, he needed to get going, to finish the original task he had been sent on. The task of finding Rune. Stepping carefully through the carnage, Silva approaches the woman, and stops about four feet behind her, before speaking up, bowing low before standing straight again. "I thank you for getting things under control here. Though the losses are less than desirable, it was necessary to getting things under control. I wish that had not been the case, but there was no other choice. Though I'd wish to stay and help take care of the wounded, I must take my leave, as there are much more important priorities I must attend to immediately." He holds a hand to his chest in the way of parting in Rias'oyvee etiquette and mannerisms. Bowing once more, he then looks to her. "May the winds be swift at your feet, and may the sun always shine brightly o'er your path." This was a common parting saying that one might say to the other, in his race's words.<br/><br/>With this said, he turns on his heels, and begins to walk away, willing his mind to just forget that this had ever happened. He knew that once his father found out about this, he would get into serious trouble. No doubt his father would find ways to point fault in his direction, to peg the blame on Silva, his father always found a way for that. Sighing, Silva shook his head. There was no point in thinking about that right now, he had to focus on figuring out where Rune headed off too. Which thus led him to his next thought...why had Rune looked at him like that? With such...contempt...such hatred...? It made no sense, Silva had never seen such an expression on his brother's face like that before. He thought that it might have just been a trick of the light, or maybe it was an aftereffect for him bumping into that other man and almost falling...but then, if Silva really thought it over, that would just be wild guessing, a theory that probably would never have any solid fact to the matter. Shaking his head, he gazes up ahead, keeping his eyes ahead of him, and straining his vision as he looked around, trying his hardest to spot any hints, any signs at all of Rune.