[/html]Ugh no keep replying forever. /self-enabler /useless ;___________;
Their father had always said that Myrika looked like their mother, and so Cassandra had always imagined an older version of her sister when she thought of long lost Rachias. Now, three years and some months old, they were both older than their mother had been when they'd be born. Idly, the albino daughter wondered if her sister had any children, if she had a mate or a lover, if she was happy there in Inferni (she had to be, or why else would she still be there?). She knew nothing about the woman that had come to answer her call, and she knew the opposite was true as well. The feelings she'd grown numb to hurt just then, sharp and needling. The time, the distance, and most of all, the emptiness, the absence. All of it hurt.
As Myrika neared, Cassandra felt the years pull back for a moment. They were children again and her sister was returning to her after chasing away some silly threat: a raccoon, a rude pup of Thornloe, a shadow in the dark. The pallid woman stiffened and looked down when she heard her name, pulling her ears back against her dirty hair. Her body wanted to move forward to meet her and forget a moment all its aches and paints, but her mind didn't let it. How could she embrace her sister like this? Covered in grime and blood and mistakes and shame? She didn't know what Myrika had been through, but somehow she knew that there was not nearly so much blood and sin on her sister's hands. She could not taint her. (It was true, what they'd said. She was no longer clean or pure. She hadn't been in a long time.)
"...Myrika," she said quietly, tail tucked, eyes still looking at the ground. It was appropriate regardless of how the situation was framed. "I just... Can I just..." What? She could not remember what she intended to say. Had she thought about it before hand? Had she chosen her words already, somewhere along her three-day journey? She couldn't remember and swallowed the lump in her throat. What did she want to ask? For permission to stay? Could she do that without specifying that she had no intentions of joining Inferni? Even standing there, that was not a conversation she wanted to have just yet. Cassandra found herself fumbling around in circles in her head, not knowing how to get what she wanted, how do even get across what she wanted. What did she even want?
"Will Inferni let me stay here until my shoulder heals?" she asked miserably. "I spoke to Ezekiel some months ago and he invited me to visit. I don't know if that offer still stands or if this even counts as a visit, but. I need a place to rest. Just for a little bit." It was very uncharacteristic of her to speak in such a disjointed manner, to ramble, but it was also uncharacteristic of her to plead, and this felt like pleading. It was little girl Cassandra speaking, sad and needy. The feeling of shame and humiliation washed over her again and she shivered, still unwilling to look up at her sister.
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