Continued from here
[html] Not yet, but eventually. It seemed like something to hold on to. A reason to look forward into the future instead of peering back on the weathered pages of the past. Corona had watched him draw out both tobacco and match, the charcoal tip springing to life and drawing out the crimson in his eyes so much more than the lack of light they already had. Addiction did indeed run throughout all of their veins. It ran them to ruin in some cases. It allowed man to ride to his own ruin—which never went without thinking that perhaps one day they would all meet that fate themselves. They did not live as long as the last statues of intelligent life did, so they didn't have time to get as far or obtain as much. But time… would take them there, she was sure of it.
“I'm staying in what's left of Chimera, so I'll never been that far away,” she told him, “if you need me.” Letting her eyes drift away from his face, she couldn't help but peer up at the sky, pondering something else. Though she had no fear of provoking that very darkness that lurked within him, it was the tactless way she wanted to go about it that made the difference. “Do you think you'll go to the coast and see her?” Corona didn't even know just how to refer to her mother in his presence. Another thing that had slipped out of her mannerisms; she hardly addressed anyone by what they were. But there wasn't any denying that he would miss on just which her she was talking about. She neither asked if he would visit any of the others, nor did she doubt that he would say he would go see her. [/html]
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indent Addiction had been the main cause to Damian’s madness and eventual death. His father had lost himself in the curse of a red dragon, from the smoke that Ahren could identify still to the drug he had shot up into his arm nights when Misery slept uneasily at his side. Addicts to narcotics, to love, become so caught up in the squirrel-cage of self that they go mad and rend their souls asunder. So too fell Damian de le Poer, the Crimson King, the Walkin’ Dude, the bastard son of a madman and a whore. All men in time become their fathers; this was one thing Ahren feared above all else.
indent She pushed him, the way a child does, knowing that they cannot be struck. Ahren had never struck any daughter; though he had once driven Corona so far away that the rift between them had never completely healed. She was his favorite, of this there was no doubt. “Eventually,” he said after a moment, aware this sounded very much like a lie. “It won’t change anything.” He had left her. She was the only one he had left. The other two had run.
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[html] While it did sound like a lie, she had no reason to believe that he would lie. Corona could not recall a time when Ahren had ever lied to her about anything, and therefore saw no reason for him to start. It was probable, should they both start to lie, the other would figure the other out. “I know,” was her simple answer to the fact that nothing would change. She had assumed that a long time ago that what had been both mother and father was long gone. As unfortunate in her favour as it were, Corona had eventually come to accept that. She didn't just suggest it for her, but rather as if it would make a difference to what few siblings still hung around the coast. She reckoned Gabriel was the only one left there. All of the others had scattered to some flimsy end somewhere.
Sometimes she couldn't help but wonder if she would ever see them again, but yet a small part of her had been taught not to care. The world was a feverish place of change. So there wasn't a whole lot that any of them could do about it. Some ties were meant to be broken and dissolve away like ash in the wind. “Do you really think I would expect things to change that way?” She couldn't help but be curious, wondering if that was what he really suspecting her of trying to do. Change could not be forced where it wasn't wanted and he had made it startling clear years ago to her that it was futile. But she would have loved to have been able to have been more of an influence on change, however pointless and childish it would be now. [/html]
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indent His fire-red eyes looked at her sharply. The eyes were the only things that really gave them much difference. In her face he saw a young woman who had grown up knowing her parents for what they were; liars, fakes, hypocrites. One preached intolerance and slept with the things she hated, another had turned his back on all responsibility. Even now, he was running. No answers, just questions, just vague, hollow ideas.
indent “I don’t know,” he said honestly. “You shut me out.”
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[html] “Not before you pushed me away,” she countered, finding that her tone had slipped to something more sharp. But it was true, for the moment he had even pushed her away a little bit, she had shut him out. It was cause and effect, it was balance, and it was just how things evidently still were. For as much as she wanted to always get to the core of things, he was evasive and firm, never relenting in giving her just what she wanted to her. “I don't except anything to change. You've already proved that to me,” and that had been on the fact that he never answered to what he was doing back there. In her eyes, he had been living quite like the king across that ocean. Free of the madness that ran loose here, and more importantly a majority of the things that would forever try and hunt them down for who they were. [/html]
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indent Nothing would ever be right. He had run from this place, run from his past, and come back to it. He had to face everything he had done, even if that meant hurting himself. He had faced Aiji before; he had spoken to Kaena briefly. Now before him was a daughter who he had cherished above all else, only to send her away as he did with all things. Getting attached meant getting hurt. “I’m sorry,” he said, the words feeling worthless on his tongue. “I hurt people, Corona.” A small and odd smile crossed his face, and his eyes went cloudy. “I suppose I wanted you to leave before I hurt you more.”
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[html] It was hard not to start laughing at the logic had applied to things. Part of her had expected some sort of complex answer that was supposed to tell her just how riddled with things her father was, but that would have been too easy. But maybe it was really that answer that she had been looking for, because that small smile said so much more to her than anything else. “But that's life. We all get hurt.” she said, shaking her head. “Whether it's unintentional or entirely on purpose, we all get hurt and that's just how it goes. You either get over it, forgive, and move on, or you don't.” His actions only fueled her dislike for Matinee even more though, because she had every intention and reason to blame things on her. It fit the ticket really. It explained to her why he was there and why he would stay. Chasing ghosts was all good and well, but Corona knew that sometimes they would simply never find them. “Besides, if you had really hurt me more than something superficial, I wouldn't be standing here talking to you.” [/html]
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indent Of course he was a labyrinth, and his past remained wrapped up in half-truths and curious debacles that never found answers. To remain shadowed in mystery was a cloak, and this gave him protection. He had seen his own death in dreams, and faced it twice, only to walk away on dumb luck. Fear was a very real, very powerful thing. “Are you ever going to be able to do that with her?” He asked, tone indicating who he meant. He was curious as to if the maturity in her speech had yet eclipsed the jealous hatred of a girl who missed her father.
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[html] “Do what? Forgive her?” It was of no surprise that Matinee would work her way into his words. “She's never done anything to me, so I have nothing to forgive her for. I'd like to think it's my full decision whether or not to accept her, though,” she answered, steeled well for those kind of questions. They weren't the first time she had been asked them, and she doubted that they would be the last. Tempted to return his question with her own twist, Corona opted not to do something like that. She was half on the glass lip between wondering if he would ever expect her distrust and dislike of Matinee, and half to the point where she simply lost interest in caring if he did or didn't. [/html]
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indent The answers she gave only showed him she had evolved around that issue. While his face did not show an obvious reaction, his eyes darkened just slightly. While he did not crave approval from anyone, it was still something that would have pleased him. Of course, he would not change his colors or expect her to change hers. “I just don’t see why you haven’t.” It wasn’t as though Matinee had ripped apart their family. Ahren had managed that quite well enough on his own.
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[html] But it had never really mattered who tore what family apart. If things really followed fate, then they were all doomed to be estranged from one another, torn apart by things that they had no control over. Like the way that incurable cancer tore through the bodies of the undiagnosed for years, it never really began to rampage until someone noticed. It never really began to spread until it was provoked, and then it was on the run. Ravage whatever supply was available, and spread. Animosity itself was a cancer. “I don't like her. I don't trust her because of who she is. I don't think she'll be coming back any time soon because wandering is in her nature as much as yours and mine.” Love never mattered. Family never mattered. Their ancestors had shed their familial ties to claim territory for themselves. They had slaughtered one of another when the other broke the chain of command. They had come a long way, evolved intelligently, but it was hard to out breed what had been genetically encoded into them from the start. “You can regret the choices you make, or lack thereof, but when it all boils down to it, a lot of times you never look back unless you have nothing better to do.” Very much more than likely the only reason why they were both back there again. There simply was no other outlet, or niche for them to fill. [/html]
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indent She misinterpreted his habit of looking at the past as regret—Ahren did not consciously regret anything he had done. Sure, he had made mistakes, and many at that, but had he not the world wouldn’t have changed; only he might have. They weren’t very important in the long-term scale of things, really. Insignificant little lives. The blonde shrugged, almost apathetically. “If that’s what you think, then I’ll have to live with it.” That was what he always did, regardless of whether he was seen as prophet or criminal. “You sound like you’ve given up on love,” he added, as if turning the shotgun barrel back towards her might give him some answers.
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[html] Maybe she had given up on love, just because there wasn't a lot of it in the world. Or maybe it had something to do with the way that it blinded some from seeing what it was that they really needed. She was sure that it was a wondrous thing to experience, but for some it was as toxic as waste. Her shoulders rolled roughly into a shrug, not quite sure what to say to something like that. It could have had a double meaning, because so many other things did in life. Everything was about reading between the lines. “Depends on the kind of love you're talking about,” she said, as though it would make a difference. “Familial love is one thing, but romantic love is something that I don't believe I can give up on until I've experienced it, in which case I haven't.” How did one just give up on love? For all the things that there were in the world, surely there was one thing that they truly did love. It didn't have to be alive, it didn't have to be real. “From what I can tell though, people fall in and out of love all of the time.” [/html]
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indent “They do,” he responded. “It doesn’t make much sense even when you do experience it. Trust me,” he added with a faint and almost forced laugh. Yeah, he had fucked up. Twice, maybe three times. It all worked out, though, even if he didn’t have concrete proof in his hands. Pushing his hair away from his face, the red-eyed male shook his head lightly and looked back to Corona. “I’m glad to see you here,” he finally said. “You look like you’ve done all right for yourself.”
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[html] In her eyes, survival wasn't hard when all she had done was drift around. Wander aimlessly in search of answers to the reasons why things went they way that they went, pick up more useless knowledge about a dead world. All of that wandering and all of that time wasted when it seemed like the one thing that she wanted the most was always the one thing just out of her grasp. Happiness was ever the fleeting thing and time had only gone on to show her that it was nearly impossible to grasp and hold on to. For a moment or two, she was oddly silent, only letting a shrug be the acknowledgement to what he had to say. Her mind was busy making decisions. “I thought things would be in a better state when I came back, but they weren't. I'm not so sure that I'm happy to be here, but I haven't been happy any where else.” She restlessly shifted her weight between her feet, this time opting to look around the run down amusement park. “C'est la vie,” she sighed. [/html]
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Feel free to end with your post. We should have an updated one sometime soon. 
indent Happiness came in small doses. That was one brutal truth of the world. “So it goes,” he responded idly, letting his eyes follow the trail her gaze left. This place was curious, despite its age. He finally settled his sights on a carrousel, long since rusted. The animals, trapped in static motion, seemed like corpses. Stallions with wide eyes and flaring nostrils, fantastical beasts with bared teeth and striped coats, broken lights and peeling, faded paint all remained on the circular structure. It would never move again. “Would you like to walk with me?” A simple question, a simple request.
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[html] “No, I think I'm going to head back now,” was her simple response to his question. Though she was inclined greatly to continue the banter that they had been carrying on for quite some time now, part of her had gotten her fill of reality for the time being. There were still a lot of faces in her memory to seek out and talk to, and the day was slowly trickling down towards an end as it were. She bade him a silent farewell before walking off, heading for the gates and slipping by without a single look back. There were simply too many things to do in a day far too short. [/html]
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