Her displeasure was noted but not entirely unexpected; Elohim had no doubt in his mind that anybody's company would not be wholly appreciated, particularly that of a male's. In any case, he had resolved to give her company and so, he had decided to take the brunt of whatever she might send his way be it teeth or coldness. Yet she had not been entirely cold and so, he had taken to being her shadow for now as they loped through the woods, content in the momentary silence that had befallen them. She felt different, this he knew, and yet he did not utter it.

No, she had not been cold to him. She had been hot like fire, her words teeth against his ears as her own dug into the earth. He stopped immediately, stiffened by the vehemence of her words. Still, he did his best to remain flat in his expression, no hint given towards whatever he might have felt. If he had a role to play, perhaps it was a vessel for which she could fill with her hate, a man for which she could beat the debt out of. He would not stop her, would not resond until she had said her part and yet, he knew their eyes had never glistened with malice. She had loved her toys and so, they would have loved her back. Still, he only allowed himself to meet her gaze, not her words.

Only when she calmed herself did he bring himself to nod in understanding, his own breaht drawn out in relief as she tried to explain. He understood, at least he thought he might, and so he was gentle with his words. "That part has joined our mother wherever she might be," he responded with a hushed voice, unsure but trying, "and so that part will remain loved and cared for." He was not sure if he even believed such an idea and yet, it was a comfort nonetheless to imagine their mother cloystered up with Ehiyeh in some distant place. Even the word love felt like a trespasser on his lips.

He fell into silence for some time, following if she chose to move but patient if she chose to stay put. He waited and thought, his brows furrowed momentarily before he conjured up words once more. "There is a place to the north, sister," he had finally come to speak, his voice a stark comparison to his former, more casual now that he had fumbled his way through intruding, "that I thought we might visit. They call it a tundra." He waited, uncertain but hopeful that she might allow him to take her some place new, some place untouched by sin or memory. There, he thought, perhaps they might forge something new.