Eris’ question made the little girl awkward. She was so young when she interacted with her mother and she built up so much bullshit in her mind about her that she wasn’t sure what was truth and what wasn’t anymore. “Not really,” Maggie started, looking at the floor in almost-embarrassment. “Her name was Lolita Monroe. I was born in Dahlia de Mai when it was around with Foxglove and another sister of mine, Poppy. I bear a striking resemblance to my father, and so when she decided to leave Dahlia she left me at Cour des Miracles with him and she took my two sisters back to live with her gypsy commune. Or something. The details are so foggy now. She also… thought she was dead, or something, but still living. But her mind thought she was dead. That's all I really remember about her,” Magnolia was only barely beginning to understand her mother’s psychosis now after being an adult for some time. But as a puppy, her mother scared her and she didn’t understand what was going on with her.
Maybe it was the alcohol, but Eris opened a route of possibility for prodding. Maggie worshiped Eris, and her mind burned with a million possible questions. “Who was your mother?” That’s all she asked, and hoped some of the inquiries in her mind could be answered by that simple sentence.
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