The girl kept pushing. More and more questions about his home life spilled forth from her mouth and flooded his ears, which fell flat against his skull each time he interrogated him. The smoke colored boy was growing weary of this, but really she was doing no wrong and he couldn’t lash out. The only option he had was to keep skirting around the answers, keep holding back. As he always did, it was all he did anymore. "I don't know…" Of course he knew why they were sad. Why they made him sad. It was all his fault though and how was he suppose to say that out loud? Pripyat Soul did not want to tell anyone about the snowstorm, the rescue, the blood and then later how he couldn't meet his father's eyes and his mother seemed to be slowly slipping away from them. No one needed to know these things.
As before, when she spoke of herself relief washed over him. Mizu spoke at length and Pripyat eased his eyes shut as she spoke. Whenever she spoke of herself he felt calm, almost at peace, able to focus on anything but himself. Hot in the summer and freezing cold in the winter. Was that how it worked everywhere? The boy had no idea that climate would change from location to location and the idea was novel to him, but he quickly moved past it when she spoke of her siblings. Her own brother had chased her away. The blue eyes boy remembered his half sister's brief visit and his father's alarm at learning this. Were all siblings evil in one way or another? Maybe constantly fighting over their parent's love? Selfishly Pripyat was glad that all his littermates had been lost… Finally she stopped speaking and hurriedly, so that she would have not even a single moment to turn the focus back on him he blurted out questions. "Don't you miss your parents? Why did you stay with your last pack?"
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