She has been starved of socialization and certainly affection since those long past days in the desert with her mother. It amazes her sometimes that she’s still capable of coherent conversation. This is how she’s wished her first meeting with Evren had gone, calm and rational.
It’s a strange kind of peace that settles over Scylla as she and Evren learn to be in each other’s presence. For the black and white mare, it’s a feeling of finding a piece of the family she’s cherished all her life, a family she’d been afraid had been extinguished with Orhan’s death.
She doesn’t appear to be the only one falling into contemplation, as several times she has seen Evren’s mind working furiously behind her eyes. This time, it’s in response to Scylla’s apology, and Scylla waits for her companion to put the pieces together. She doesn’t feel any anxiety in waiting, rather she’s finally at peace now that she’s spoken the words.
When she sees the memory of that awful day in the desert descend into Evren’s eyes, Scylla smiles. Evren’s response to her apology is a little surprising, but it’s nothing less than what Orhan or Encantador would have said. Scylla’s chest warms with affection.
”It’s never too late to apologize, whether the injured party remembers the slight or not,” she says, gentle but firm. ”I think you had every right to yell, given the circumstances, and you were forgiven by the end of that day.” Her smile turns wistful. ”Grief is paralyzing, but it’s also strengthening.”
Scylla sighs as she thinks about how to answer Evren’s question, knowing that the truth isn’t satisfying for her. Judging by Evren’s hopeful smile, an affirmative answer would not be unwelcome. Her dark eyes soften, longing again for that perfect world from her dreams.
”Not by blood, but we are family. Or, at least, I’d like us to be.” She thinks of everything she’d told Orhan and decides quickly on what to tell his daughter. ”My mother was…impulsive, flighty…it got her into trouble a couple times and it took her away from your grandfather, who loved her. They found each other again and had a daughter, a sister that your father and I shared.”
Her eyes brighten with emotion as she uses some of the same words she’d said to Orhan regarding Khaleesi. “Encantador wasn’t my father, but if I’d had more time with him, I would have thought of him that way. In another lifetime, your father would have been my brother. And you would be my niece.”
She looks directly at Evren, hoping the mare understands how important the titles she’s using are to her, that she holds family ties in such high regard. To Scylla, nothing matters more than family.