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[/html]She recognized that her reply wasn’t what he would want to hear, but it was what had to be said. Everything she had said was done because she needed to say it: both for herself and for Jefferson. She didn’t owe him honesty, but she certainly owed it to herself. Since Tayui had recognized that she was a rather egocentric creature – and consequently come to terms with it – she’d found she was having a much easier time of acknowledging basic truths about herself. There had been times when she had others to worry about, care for, and feel for; but this was not one of those times. Certainly, she felt some sort of connection to Jefferson, but that didn’t mean she owed him anything. She owed it to herself and that what was important now.
She noticed his gaze begin to wander, but didn’t think much of it. It wasn’t until he returned his gaze, heavy and tired, that she noticed it. His voice was low and quiet when he spoke and the tone conveyed far more than his words did. She tried not to flinch, but found herself replying with an equally grave tone.
“Noir was the one who died. I have another daughter, Ocèane, and two sons: Attila and Claudius. They all take my surname, Aston. Noir Aston, Ocèane Aston, Attila Aston, and Claudius Aston.” The two girls names she pronounced with the nasal Quebecois accent and found herself doing the same for her sons names. It was humorously coincidental that her sons were named after historical figures, while her daughters had French names. For Noir, it was simply a word: black.
She appreciated his interest, but didn’t know how to convey it in words. She took a deep breath and then exhaled, considering what she could say. In the end, she was still at a loss for words and chose not to say anything.