It is easily forgotten, when one has watched another grow, seen their first steps, their first kill and all those other moments in which the first is often given to be the most memorable- that all such moments are given to lead only to the creation of a final product, a final perfection, one that has come to outsize even myself by the grace of the blood of Castor and his mother before him, Arsenic. Of the male line on that side I knew little, the knowledge of Castor’s father was never given to my ears or at least, cannot be recalled by my mind in this moment. Even so I am given to believe that Ava’s size, her bulk, her power- have come from such a source while the fineness within her, the class and evident beauty are born from Eris and the line of powerful females before her. Perhaps in old age we are given to forget certain things, some memories fade, become distant like those of Kael and Lucifer, each day they only seem more foggy and forgotten and yet, of all the things I remember of my Eris, I remember her beauty and I remember the first time I noticed it, much as I suppose have been given to notice Ava this evening, that there is nothing childlike within her anymore and that the child whom I walked beside, whom I guided for so, so long has grown to stand taller then even myself. Eris would have loved that. She would also have found it amusing that her child played the same game she did- waiting, waiting for me to come to her, yes, I’m wise to it, you don’t live this long by being foolish and I would like to think that of all things, my intelligence remains very much intact.

Even so, I allowed the girl her few moments to be- feminine, to huff quietly to herself about whatever it may be that had brought her disgruntlement and watch my form from within her den as she evidently attempted to decide whether or not she would grace me with her presence. She’d better. She may be grown large and powerful, she may be beautifully skilled and trained to be the perfection that she is- but I am still King. I am still ruler of so many in so many ways and until the day I die- she will remember that and she will respect it. When she builds an empire and fathers a bloodline of exception, she can be vain and egotistical about it to. Until then, she will come when summoned and not keep me waiting. One eye merely lifted in quite contemplation before she moved to come forward at the sight of my angelic form, sliding from within the depths of her den to linger close to myself, her lips brushing low against my ear as she returned the greeting in a manner much the same- despite her unusual use of my name, after all, she rarely finds call to say it when other titles are perhaps more fitting, even so I ignored it for now, aware that the girl was often given to eccentricity- now whose fault is that? Warm air brushed against my ear as I chuckled, head tilting and sizeable jaws parting in a muted, mild gesture to offer a momentary touch of affection against the side of her own ebony head, licking once at her cheek in a fondness we both deemed acceptable enough, after all, she, just as myself was not given to particularly grand gestures, in fact where Ava is concerned I have never seen another save myself be given to touch her in any manner beyond basic need or an accidently brush. Odd and yet- Ava was never as others. I touch her because I can, because I bare her affection and always will and there are none around to see it. I never was good at public displays. Not even with Zeivah.

She moves to seat herself before me, my own form adjusting to allow the fading sun to warm the snow of my back, the air already holding within it the promise of a cold winter, icy fingers well-worn within the breeze and reminding me once more to be thankful for the thickened pelt, so fine and perfect that so marks my bloodline and myself. Winter. The one season in which I can hide, the one season in which the darkness plays no games and even the moon cannot illuminate my form for want of driven snow. So many winters I have seen and yet, to notion is still pleasing all the same, the touch of cold within the air a simple promise of what was to come. The girl seemed content to stare, her features blank and well concealed, yet such was always her way, the burnt gold of her eyes remaining as embers in the dark all the same, as alive and powerful as ever they had been against the violet of my own. She has something to say, of that I am sure and I have played my part, I have come to her- yet until she offers as such, until she speaks I will be content to merely sit until she is ready, or at least manages to fight her way through whatever it is that lingers in her mind and has caused her to hold back for so long. When she spoke however- they were not the words I expected and honestly, surprising me is a particularly difficult thing to do, hell, I’ve just about seen it all.

My features however, remained impassive, curiosity lingering within the violet depths of my gaze as I turned my optics upon her once more, her own features held firmly to mine, clearly seeking some sign, some indication of what lingered within my own mind. Very good- but I am better still. I allowed no more than a passing smile, a nod of sorts in response to her question before lips parted to answer in the same lilting latina, the words of our heritage, her true heritage, no matter whose blood she bore.

“Non possum. Non affui in nativitate Eris, Phobos et Deimos.”
(I cannot. I was not present at the birth of Eris, Phobos and Deimos.)

It is not a lie, not at all. I simply did not correct her nor tell the whole truth. I have not held the privilege to sight the birth of any litters born to myself or any other save for that of Ferox and Seraphiel. All other births were held to the vigil only of the mother, of Zeivah, while I waited outside or some distance away until I was summoned. Angels are famous for half-truths Ava and you are playing with the best of them now. I paused a moment, allowing her to deal with what I had offered her, fitting, I believe, what she choose to ask. Why, after all this time she would seek knowledge on such a thing is…..unwelcome. She was never told the truth of her birth because Eris desired it so, because it held no importance. Perhaps Apollymi and Ares, Arsenic and another unknown are her true grandparents, but it matters not, she was raised by me, as her Mother before her. Mine and no others and perhaps the years have long passed and all who might oppose my ownership of Eris as they had once done are long dead, yet that possessiveness remains still. Eris was MY daughter by her choice and my desire and that is all I am concerned with. I will not deny her the truth if she asks for it directly, but nor will I be forthcoming unless made to be so. It is my way and the way I desire to have it. Why should she ask now? Why, after all these years? Only myself, Zev, Azrael, Isola, Devil and Jaidah knew the truth of Eris and her birth, the truth of Ava in turn and none would dare speak of it…well, Jaidah might have, yet I have held her silent for years and years and now she is as dead as her own Mother. That Ava asks is given to make me wary, suspicious of what is to come. Ava is not foolish, yet nor am I, the words that follow spoken smoothly, calmly and yet tainted with a warning all the same.

“Quid quaeris illa Ava numquid Quid refert? Bis risus ante.”
(Why do you ask such things Ava? What do they matter? Think well before you speak again.)

Because you may not well like the answer. We both knew, for I have every belief she does know, what we danced around, what she sought to back us into. Why should she wish to speak of it? Why should she want the truth? I will give it, if she asks and asks directly and yet it is clear that such a thing displeases me, angers me even, though my features remain guarded still, wary if not curious all the same. This talk was a long, long time coming……