When, indeed? A thousand years ago. He was ten thousand years old, so his children had to be at least a thousand. They had all grown up fast -- as fast as anyone else, but those days always seemed too short. Tragedy struck like lightning, inevitable, but unpredictable. They spent their whole lives looking up through the rain, half-heartedly wondering if there really was a sun back behind all the grey clouds. The shadow was laughing again, louder, wilder; it was just one of those things, one of those memories. His scarred shoulders shrugged. Last July,
was his reply, and he surprised himself with the accuracy of the recollection. They had been born on his birthday. Happy birthday! Here are some bastard children born to a woman three times your age and whom you don't remember fucking!
Laruku had spent a while hating Kaena for letting him sleep with her, for being a whore, a slut, a demon, and whatever else she was. But that hadn't lasted long. It was much easier to blame himself. Mine were raised in Inferni,
his voice continued, and he felt like a distant observer of the conversation; None live there anymore though.
It seemed like Clouded Tears would always be interconnected with Inferni, even now that the former was gone. They took turns at war and lust and then went in circles. Laruku didn't wonder who had been the father this time for Iskata, didn't wonder whether it'd been consensual or not. The details never seemed to matter.