"I am sorry... I did not live with Mother for much longer than you did, sister," she said softly, "but I suppose I understand why you did not cling to the language that she preferred." The words were spoken without hostility; she knew that their mother had hurt the silver sister, for why else would she have adopted their father's name? Though the story was one filled with misunderstanding, Foxglove was not bothered by the idea that her sister held little love for their mother, for Lolita was not there. It would only harm her if her sister resented her just as much.
Released from her larger sister's grasp, the blonde girl stood nervously, feeling suddenly agitated. The suffocating feelings she had experienced here in this strange, dark kingdom did not seem to bother her sister nearly as much, if at all. After all, there was obvious life growing within her, something that the gypsy girl found strange to believe possible in a place like this. "This is a strange place that you call home," she admitted tentatively. "I feel no more at home here than I have anywhere else... And I fear that you will tire of my presence." The moment the words escaped, she wished she could pull them back; they had not been meant to be spoken aloud.
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