Out father, who art in Hell
#9
She watched him, fearful as a rabbit hiding from her hunter as he pottered about his house. Gemma didn't know what to expect from this conversation, maybe the validation she had been longing for her whole life, somebody of her own blood to look at her past and judge that no, the things that had been done to her were not okay, were not correct and were evil. She let him lead her like cattle with large doleful eyes fixed upon the shining rings attached to his ear. He led her to a cosy looking rug next to an empty fireplace.

Her interest as a fire tender peeked out at the methods he used to start the fire for them, biting her lip as she watched him. It didn't take him long and the heat it threw off was very welcomed to Gemma who had begun to feel cold inside at the prospect of having to retell her harrowing tale a second time. But this time it was different, Taliesin was her brother and he wouldn't shut her just because of what she'd been through unlike Matteo, unlike the man who had impaled her heart. She fidgeted, pulling his fingers through her own, staring intently at his wrists so she wouldn't have to look into his eyes,

"Are you sure you want to hear this? It's not pleasant." Give him a chance to say no.


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