ever know each other [ooc]
I just woke up. Yes, I know it's midnight. I went to sleep at eight and thought I'd sleep until morning... fuck that, I see. -Yawns and stretches.- At least you left me a treat to wake to. <3
[bic] such a softer sin
He wasn't open. She could tell, he was staying neutral, feeling her out. She didn't know if it hurt her or not. She was very much the same... she wasn't letting her guard down yet. It hurt, in many ways, to be seeing her father now. After all, it was to escape her mother and find her father, that she had once knocked Aiji unconscious in a fight, and gotten away. She'd come here, and gone somewhere and to someone safe: to Syemv, and Phasma. Somewhere she knew she could find security and, in her own time, seek her father out and deal with these things. Her mother hadn't been ready or willing to let her do this; hell, she hadn't really even been ready or willing to do it herself. Something happened between Aiji and Ahren, beyond what Anya could know or imagine, and the sickening feeling that developed as a result had overtaken her. She wanted to know. She needed to know. And one side of the story wasn't the truth.
But fear had consumed her, and she had found herself running away, back to her mother, where it was familiar. While everything was complicated in her life with Aiji, and there was much unknown, and much that was painful, there were reasons she could never explain to others, for returning to the atrocity. Her mother, unconscious, was the first cause of her return. Unsure of her mother's safety, or even whether she was still alive, she couldn't find a way to clear her conscience if she didn't go back. Her mother's debilitation was her fault, and she wouldn't become a murderer, just for her own selfishness. She wasn't like that.
'I'm not a de le Poer,' she thought to herself, her jaw tightening slightly.
'I'm not even a Sadira. My mother accepted me as neither her own, nor my father's... I belong nowhere, to no one.' Her stomach was a certain shade of sour, and she couldn't say if it was hunger or bitterness. It didn't matter. She was here for a reason, and not for reminiscing over her pathetic existence. She turned her mind back to her father.
'I’m alive,' he had said, and she knew he meant it much as she did. A heartbeat kept him functioning and not much more, from what she could figure. She felt a twinge of emotion towards him, wanting, yearning to relate to him, to admit that she knew that he didn't mean what it sounded like, but simply not what he said. Her reply had been that she planned to live... and that, while to the average ear would sound like she was saying she was fine, it wasn't; she meant simply that her heartbeat, her breath, her body... those were the only things keeping her classified as 'alive' anymore, yet someday, she planned to truly live. She understood. But acknowledgement was not her strong point, and so she simply nodded at this statement. She couldn't open up to him, not just yet. He could probably see right through her anyhow, so she figured that keeping what she could hide of herself hidden might be her best option. The safest option.
The next statement roused bitter laughter from her core, out into the cold air.
'I didn’t expect you to come back.' Truth be told, she didn't expect herself to come back, either. Last time was a failure, and Anya didn't like to fail. Not ever. And honestly, she'd failed so much in her short life thus far, that she honestly couldn't say she ever liked the way she lived. She had failed the day she was born, or so she perceived it, if she thought too long. Then she'd taken off the first time, and gone to her grandmother... but only after days of bloodshed and tears spilt. The scars were still there, beneath her coat; faded with time, not to mention covered by the newer ones, these ones not self-inflicted as the first had been. After she'd nursed her mother back to health, it was clear that the coma which had taken her, that Anya had handed her over to, had not been kind to the older female. Insanity plagued Aiji, and her life was short after that. Anya had held her mother as she passed, and for the first time, there had truly been silence. Aiji had passed with pleas for life, for second chances. She had begged her daughter for life, for love. And Anya could give only one of those.
The question Anya had to ask, would make or break her, truly. She knew she couldn't sugarcoat it. Honest answers only came for honest questions. Maybe she should have thought of that before, when her mother was alive. Maybe a more direct question, could have gotten her a more direct answer. But she hadn't... so many regrets... why couldn't she have just said what she meant? Her body trembled; she shoved the feeling away. Her throat was closing, and this wasn't the time. She addressed her father's statement quietly, the soft volume covering the cracking sound.
"Do you mind that I did?"
