the smell of wine and cheap perfume

Talitha de le Poer · 07-23-2011, 10:00 AM

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mall-caps;text-variantmall-caps;">IT'S ONLY cript;">FOREVER, NOT LONG AT ALL

Everything dies. It was a lesson well known by the Imaginifer, but one she often forgot as the days bled together and left her alone. Death surrounded her. Death overcame her. And one day, she would succumb to death just as others had, just as Caillen had and just as her family would. Sage's words stuck to her and were absorbed like any piece of information was, with care and vague wonder and then disgust. She spoke of the dead and how they were not truly gone — this was something Talitha firmly believed, for most at least — and existed in many places: memories, monuments, stories, children. Children. The russet coyote grimaced, pressing one slender finger to her temple out of both frustration and concern.

"I have no past mistakes, Sage." That certainly wasn't true, but she saw no reason to think upon the past, either negatively or positively. The mistakes she'd made had been absolved, forgiven by...most. Her vagabond lover had yet to be forgiven by her brother, but she was certain it would come with time, as everything did between the Aquila and his sister. Of course, it was still possible that it would be delayed. "My children can't have the face of the dead — they won't have a place here if they do, and I'll simply have failed him again, having to send them away." She wouldn't force the face of the wolfdog onto her brother's clan. It was an easy thing to think, an easy thing to say — what she expected mothers felt in the way of their children was absent in the heart of the de le Poer. She was not excited. She had no love for what could be. They were simply an extension of her father's line, of Ahren's line, of the line of wolves that she knew so little about. She was merely a vessel to destroy the wolf from the tainted line.

These were things she didn't express to her cousin, and things she didn't expect Sage to understand with her strange mind that came from an equally strange father. A sigh released from her jaws, red eyes closing to the world. "I don't understand why you don't leave, Sage; even you must realize you're not the same as we are. I am like my father and you are like yours, and yours didn't belong here either." Razekiel, however, had the sense to leave — a luxury Talitha felt she didn't have, bound to Inferni by more than just her blood.

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