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Her stomach had started to ache from lack of food, but the sudden breakdown of her mental facilities left her without an appetite. When Ezekiel gave a wink and asked if she wanted food, she shook her head. It was easy for her brother to pass over the fears his sister had; they weren't his fears, or his concern. The de le Poer princess wasn't afforded that luxury. Her mind teemed with shattered ideals and the onset of fear that lingered around the corners of her thoughts. Inferni was home, but she knew she would be judged as not belonging. Gabriel wouldn't make his princess leave, not without cause, yet Talitha worried more on his disappointment in her; it was an unfounded fear, as Gabriel had never told the russet female that he felt anything at all.
"I'm not really hungry, Zekie." She expected reprimand, perhaps anger, at her fading desire for normalcy. Though others saw it, she couldn't find fault in what she did. Suffering for others. The Lykoi believed she deserved her personal punishment, a penance for her failures in life and to Inferni. She had fled, she had lead Ezekiel away, and she had used the kingdom like some waiting whore instead of a home. She had caused death, fratricide, murder. A sigh escaped her cream maw. "Cook anyways. I might eat something," she mumbled, trying to pacify rage she waited for.
Her underweight body fell to the side, laying to face the firepit with half-lidded crimson eyes. Her fingers twirled auburn curls in tight circles. "Do you ever think of your future, Ezekiel?" It was a topic she found herself drifting toward frequently, but she was unsure if others wondered the same. Time was not a concrete item in the mind of the Luperci woman. She didn't understand hours or minutes or seconds, but days and seasons kept her time. She knew she was born in a winter month, and each new year started for her when she realized she and her twin had moved another year into their lives.
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