Fox's Glade My silent lips

as indra stood before xan in a moment of conflict and reeling injury, she wondered just what she and laurel had ever done to deserve being so hurt. never in her life had she been so broken as in that moment: lucas was dead, laurel's bastard children lived, and what good came of their lives now?

she sniffed, a stiff inhale held by the tip of her tongue. her composure was slipping, the cold veneer struggling to stay upright. xan would see it easily enough, and indra resented her poor control over her emotions then. his words did little to reinforce indra's shaky composure; instead, it seemed to systematically crumble what little control indra had.

now her breath was haggard, a coarse and raw feeling rising in her throat -- the first vestige of a sob that she only just managed to choke back. "lucas is dead," indra repeated dully, knowing it was not kind of her to do so.. but she couldn't help it. it sounded so ridiculous to her. "so don't do it for him. it is too late. you still have one surviving child, xan." indra's gaze flickered to the apaata meaningfully. "marten."

but at this point in marten's life, would having his absentee father present truly do any good? what about for laurel -- what would she do in this situation, if it were her..? indra knew her sister was far stronger than she, and likely would have turned xan away with stony force.