Moonspear one

she'd always had hope, really. beneath that anger, that ire, remained the possibility that there could be some explanation for her mother's many disappearances, that despite her frequent abandonings, she'd meant to bear them, and loved them still. that despite how oft she'd reminded herself of her hate, imagined what cutting things she'd say to the woman should she ever have returned, it would take only the right words, the right apology, the right display of affection from the woman, and she would—

"drago," she responds, spinning to face him. he is a rock, the one member of her family who has never let her down, he - he got better without you. he is better without you. she inhales, sharply, ears flattening a moment to match his. "I—I look like her. and she never wanted us, we never meant anything, she didn't even mention us and she knew-" exhale and she stops. 

"why am I, are we, alive? it's her fault, but she's completely apathetic. I always thought, maybe—no." she's coming undone, and she dumping it all on him. he understands, he loves her, and yet he's better without you. "I'm sorry."