The silver-furred coyote could easily see her creations as beautiful—she accepted all of her children, regardless of how much she disagreed with them. Rikka, for example, would not seek vengeance against Haku for what he had done. It was on her family to do that for her, but perhaps if Rikka had not been so greviously injured, the golden-furred woman would have spoke against her family avenging her. Then again, a strike against Haku wouldn't be just for Rikka's sake, either. The hybrid watched with interest as her son twisted around the papers, his fingers moving at a pace she could not follow. It was hopeless—she would always have to rely on others to do these things for her.
“I can understand that. She can't control us any more than I can control you or Gabriel,” the coyote said. Maybe Haku wasn't rotten to the core—maybe he'd started out as a beautiful flower and withered and rotted into his current state? Such a thought struck her like a blow, and she slithered down from her perch to sit next to Razekiel, drawing herself close to him. Though it had been strange to see him in such a different light, with such a different attitude, the hybrid now found it comforting. He radiated good feelings, and he was always full of spacey and delightful comments. “Not at all. I'm so glad you came back,” she said, almost compulsively, brushing past the extended joint and lighter to wrap her arms around him, squeezing onto him. “You were gone so long,” she said, sounding mournful, though she did not resent the creature that the commune had returned to her in the least—at least he had come back! She was not about to spend the time she had with him now being mad at him for leaving in the first place; that was downright counterproductive.
An embarassed smile bloomed on her face and the coyote drew back, her eyes on the ground as she took the lighter and the joint. She almost felt as if she ought to apologize to him for grabbing him abruptly and going mushy-motherly on him. She didn't, though, and she turned her attention back to the lovely thing Razekiel had created for her. The silvery coyote flicked on the lighter with her deft optime fingers. She put the rolled thing in her mouth and lit it, and immediately aromatic and harsh smoke filled her mouth and lungs. She drew the joint back from her mouth and handed it over to Razekiel, hanging off for a moment before she exhaled, coughing immediately.
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