His mother was such a kindly, gentle type; he did not understand why it was so hard for her to speak about his father, but heavy feelings of doubt and doom spread within his chest. She seemed to hang on every word, unsure how to admit them and did so with the utmost caution. Had he sparked bad memories? What exactly was being left unsaid? Tayui failed even to given him a name, to put a tag on a faceless entity, but perhaps she wished not even that for her son. His ears flicked back. What had this man done to be denied even his son? He had indeed not been a father nor involved in Attila's aging process, but for some reason the boy couldn't blame him. The way Tayui was acting only inspired more curiosity in the Aston boy. Instead of feeling threatened, he felt almost awed.
She spoke of another lover, once upon a time, who in the end did not persevere. "Who?" he asked suddenly, no thought process prior to its birth. Attila was less interested in dead men, but perhaps it was the concept of his mother in love that intrigued him; he believed himself to have been born devoid of that passion, or at least unconcerned with it thus far in life. Sure, Attila had loved many women, but had not loved them in that process. It was intriguing to he that so many were hooked on that emotion and allowed it to drive their lives. Attila Aston, however, was in full control.
He sat back against the tree and forced himself to relax. Boggling his mother with questions was inappropriate, especially seeing how nervous it made her, but didn't he have the right? She'd denied him that information for over a year, and he'd already suffered through a childhood without a father. At least with information, he would be mentally satisfied. "What happened, mom? If you didn't love him, what happened?" Of course, Attila could make assumptions; perhaps his father had been in the same boat his son commonly was, and in the end Tayui was not as fortunate. He wanted to know, however--had he, the apple, not fallen far from the tree?
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