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Parker was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't even register Amata's presence in the chair behind her. So when the soft question drifted to her over the crackle of the flames, the young girl started and pivoted her torso to peer at the face silhouetted by the light of the fire. There was no mistrust in her gaze as she knew the only ones to take residence in the Manor were close family and friends, but there was a healthy dose of surprised curiosity. Her brows lifted as she drank in the sight of her elder sister. They were mirrors of one another, and as a result Kansas, at least to a certain degree. But where Amata was a soft creme, Parker was more of a striking blond; where her eyes were mismatched, Parker's were a steady gold. But their personalities were both amiable, and open. At least from what the young girl had observed of her elder sister since her return to Crimson Dreams.
It was the question she focused on now. Parker dropped her gaze as she mulled it over in her head, eyes closing for the barest of moments as she recalled the raw pain she felt when her mother had embraced her earlier that day. Her eyes were still sore from crying, and the wound itself was still bleeding. The entire pack was in a state of mourning, and it was reverberating deep in her bones like an ancient song. Just above her, Artemis was wasting away, and there was absolutely nothing any of them could do about it. Turning her gaze back on her sister's own, Parker shook her head. "Couldn't sleep." She murmured softly, choosing words over expression for the first time in a week. There was a weight to them, and the reason was obvious.
She fought to keep her gaze from moving just a fraction ceiling-ward, to the room her sister was in. But Amata was a welcome distraction. Lifting her hand, she motioned to the book that was resting in her elder's lap, eyes betraying the curiosity she had over the content of it.
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