History repeating itself

[Conor Soul]

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durr

He had expected nothing less from the young girl. But she was no girl anymore. He had not known the white Rosea well, and if he had he had been too young to remember it. Now it seemed so obvious. Cercelee and Nayru were not the same, but he thought he recognized traces of similar souls. It was strange that he had not guessed who her parents were before; almost silly. But time had provided him with the answers he had wanted, and along with that he had decided on doing what he thought was the right thing. Perhaps it was not, but doubt without evidence would not stop the Soul male. He needed players to lean on, and Nayru would be a brilliant candidate despite her young age.

”I’m glad,” he spoke, though was somewhat distracted by the train of thoughts clogging up his weary mind. First things first. ”We’re looking forward to having you up and about again.” The wound could have been knitted together better, but as long as no infection or similar had occurred, Conor had felt no need to interfere with its healing process.

”That she did not,” he reassured the female as she seemed to worry about her sister. And if the girl wished to stay, he could not think of a reason why this could not be. Sometimes he had to wonder if she asked out of mere politeness or because she thought there was a chance he would do something against her wishes. The only reason that would drive Conor to put his foot down was if Dahlia and its members’ safety would be at stake. ”She can stay for as long as she wants.” Nayru’s sister seemed like a sweet being, and it had only been pleasant to converse with her, and he had learned much.

”How does it feel to know that you have a family?” he asked, though his voice did not change. Nayru was not his child; he did not have a right to interrogate her. It was merely curiosity, as usual. Conor’s own family was a joke, and no one was left now. He was on his own, but he had accepted that long time ago.