03-06-2011, 04:21 PM
[html] bleep.
The name the girl provided for Pripyat rang no bells, and he simply let it slip away into the large pot of names he would vaguely remember if he was ever to meet this man face to face. It wasn't the unfamiliar name that jarred the young boy, but the words the young girl spoke next. She didn't know who her mother was? Wasn't paternal uncertainty the issue in most matings, rather than that of maternal uncertainly. A mother always knew who her children were. Which meant Melee's mother either left her in one way or another a very young age. Before the child could start forming memories. Pripyat remembered his earliest memories. Warm sunshine on cool sands and his mother was right there. There were no questions whose womb he sprang from.
Shaking his head, he wasn't even sure how to answer her inquiry. Why did she think he might know any better than she? "I'm sorry. I don't." It was that simple. He couldn't help her out; he only knew his own family. The immediate family that called Phoenix Valley home. The others were just shadows and ghosts that lurked outside the pack lands, outside his comfort zone, and he interacted with them only by chance. "Why don't you ask your father?" Surely the man would know, and if he didn't, well Pripyat felt that perhaps he had stepped into a mess he didn't quite understand. Perhaps his own family circumstances weren't any more muddled than anyone else's.
The name the girl provided for Pripyat rang no bells, and he simply let it slip away into the large pot of names he would vaguely remember if he was ever to meet this man face to face. It wasn't the unfamiliar name that jarred the young boy, but the words the young girl spoke next. She didn't know who her mother was? Wasn't paternal uncertainty the issue in most matings, rather than that of maternal uncertainly. A mother always knew who her children were. Which meant Melee's mother either left her in one way or another a very young age. Before the child could start forming memories. Pripyat remembered his earliest memories. Warm sunshine on cool sands and his mother was right there. There were no questions whose womb he sprang from.
Shaking his head, he wasn't even sure how to answer her inquiry. Why did she think he might know any better than she? "I'm sorry. I don't." It was that simple. He couldn't help her out; he only knew his own family. The immediate family that called Phoenix Valley home. The others were just shadows and ghosts that lurked outside the pack lands, outside his comfort zone, and he interacted with them only by chance. "Why don't you ask your father?" Surely the man would know, and if he didn't, well Pripyat felt that perhaps he had stepped into a mess he didn't quite understand. Perhaps his own family circumstances weren't any more muddled than anyone else's.