Broken Boulder and i haven't sold me

It happens quickly. Okeanos pleading for their father to stay, and then Ibis—puny and hurting and overly emotional child Ibis—pushing off of her brother. Her physical separation from him could've been a sign for something deeper, a separation from the concept that he blithely uttered. She doesn't know what she wants but the look of frustration on her face is one clue; and then she is peeling away from Okeanos, racing for her mother, where she collapses by her feet and hides as if the man standing nearby—who previously had so much goodness and cheer from the girl—was suddenly a villain. 

Ibis cries, Daddee leaving, and she lifts her head to shoot blurry daggers from between the protective hurdles of her mother's limbs. Ibis couldn't figure out how she felt about the whole situation and was enveloped by her many emotions; she was a raging storm trapped in a tiny body, and soon enough crying took too much energy, and she fell quiet again.