<font color=8F66AD><i>last blues for blood knuckles%01</i></font>

She had not been oblivious to his.... hesitance, no, but she had at least attempted to understand it. Somewhere inside her she knew she had wronged him, perhaps beyond repair, the day he had been taken from her; she found it improbable any words she would utter could heal such a transgression. It was difficult for even her to explain - she had been afraid, terrified for her life at the hands of Heyel. It had restrained her to the safety of Iromar and even now there was some small part of her that quivered at the thought of the Jester King's arrival, but so much of her could not care. If he came, she would be spared from the ache that would not leave her, the sharp sting that persisted in her solar plexus; death was a merciful punishment, much less so than being forced to live on without her blood and soul.

To accept that her own daughter, even her own son, had attempted to kill Vidar? It was... too hard, too much to attempt to comprehend. Why had they done such a thing? How long had they done so? Was there more to it? She had to shake the thought from her mind, returning her utmost attention to her son - so much like his father, perhaps more than he even knew. Despite their flaws as parent's, or perhaps only hers at least, she had become somewhat... proud, she guessed, of her son - maybe he did not see it himself but he had grown so much stronger, so much more handsome despite the scars and his speech, too, had improved. Ruvindra had never judged his lack of linguistic skill, had Caligula not spoken in almost five years? At times, she envied the simple life where words could not destroy, or build, things.

"He and Caligula are together - they work together. She has wronged you - wronged us - and thus, I do not want to count her or he as my own. Family is family, we do not hurt our family."

How many times had she told that to Caligula - protect family, protect, protect but no, it seemed the words had barely made an impact on her. She attempted a meek smile, frail, but some far off attempt at being a comfort in such a situation. It was a strange concept even for her, but one day they would all have to understand it - especially those who she had cut from her bloodline. They had to learn and no longer could she simply turn a blind eye. She'd failed in the past as a parent but no longer, that she had sworn. As they moved along, side by side, she finally felt somewhat as if she were in the right place, finally after so many years. Though her paws ached and her chest continued to argue with the movement, she persisted, attempting to find some kind of... beauty in the nature, something to such an effect. It had been a very long time since she had a chance to simply bask in life and she found her eyes wandering about before her son brought her attention back once more. Azrael - she resisted a growl, instead nodding sternly before remaining silent for a moment. He was the son of Heyel, no, sworn to kill those of Iromar. If she remembered correctly, he had even charged in to Iromar and yet... there he was, caring for a son he did not raise, a wolf he did not need to show mercy upon.

"Give him my thanks - he has done a most excellent job with you, my son. You are so strong."

They had moved onward once more, her eyes fixated forward as she considered the situation of Azrael. She knew not what to do in such a predicament - undoubtedly he wished for her death and yet, he had spared her blood. Was there some kind of custom to give a thank you for such a thing? Or were words enough? She'd simply been watching the world around them, the trees beginning to dissipate and open up into the broad, endless fields of grass and weeds. The sun had moved above them, warming the loam beneath their paws and illuminating their path toward Iromar - they would be there soon enough and yet she found her paws moving slower, attempting to extend the time between here and there.

He stopped, his words tumbling out a jumbled mess for a moment as she twisted to face him, concern written across her face. A girl? And he had spoken to Vague - when? Why had she not been told he had gone to see their son? She frowned for a moment, processing all at once before she finally sighed, reaching out once more to lick him across the muzzle as he growled in his own frustration.

"He was right - they call them imprints. They are the second half to your soul. Nero, the father of Celesdue, he... he... he was mine, the other half. My other half. You must not lose her, my son, you must not allow her to love any other, to leave your sight. To lose her... it will crush you."

As it has crushed me, though she left such a thing unspoken, only found in the way her teeth crushed down on themselves when she had finished speaking. She felt sadness well up once more within her chest but she swallowed it down in a vain attempt to compose herself before she, too, turned away for a moment, breathing slowly. To admit it aloud was... vile, a sour tasting series of words and yet, her voice had rung true. He could not lose her - she would not allow for it to happen. She would not lose her son again.

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