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In the time that had passed since Noir’s death, the days slowly felt like they were becoming longer. Although she knew in the summer months, the days were supposed to grow longer and keep the night at bay; she could not find any peace. Even though the nights were shorter, it only gave way to more light and more chances to see her reflection in the stream by her den. This meant there were more opportunities for Tayui to remember that she was still alive while her daughter was not.
And now, there was the opportunity for her to notice her son’s disappearance. Although she had not heard from him in some time, apparently no one else had, either. Concern for her son, coupled with grief for her daughter made the days almost unbearable. And poor Claudius did not quite understand what had happened, either. He knew, but he refused to acknowledge it: he remained cooped up in the den, holding Noir’s stuffed toy and reading to it from his aging books. One day, those books would be impossible to read, and Tayui feared it would be sooner, rather than later.
Some days, she tried to push herself to get back in to the world and do things; anything. Many times, she would find herself too fatigued to continue or too unwilling to carry on. Sometimes, she thought she could see Noir, waiting for her. So when she saw the shadowy figure of her little-known beau, she thought she had to be hallucinating. Like every other time, the figure emerged from nowhere, silently and without warning. Like every other time, she asked the same question.
“Who did this?” If anyone would know, it would be her beautiful daughter Noir, with her honey-golden eyes. But somehow, today, they looked less golden and more like her own: bright, baby blue.