Moonspear Never Ever

Her eyes narrowed over his answer, although the rest of her stayed as dispassionate as the frustrations rippling beneath her surface would allow--especially with the root of so many of them standing there in front of her, towing a very fine line already with a look like that on his face. The ire in her heart gave a twist then, seeing him after the fact of everything that had landed them here; he could say all he wanted, but to her, those in-betweens and what he didn't outright say, might be all the more valuable.

Deciding not to remark on that, he gave her more to consider as he admitted to his weakness in leaving in the first place. That didn't earn him much favor--could he not be bothered to control himself? Was his daughter's heat that offensive? Something in there did not sit well with her. She knew, too, why it would unnerve those basal instincts. She hadn't liked it on principle at first either--that had been her role, her right.. but Hydra had, and she had not so she had adapted and found the vantage point in the situation that she did approve of. It had not been enough to send her fleeing from the mountain in the first place, though. Are you? she asked, watching, allowing him closer towards her as she didn't move or shift otherwise. She sincerely doubted he was sorry for any of it, though the part of her that aligned so well to him wanted to feel otherwise badly. You seemed plenty sure of yourself then, even in insulting me, she said, looking him dead on. She had not forgotten that she had been hysteric, not seeing it clearly, and all manner of whatever else to her while he threw a right tantrum, complete with storming off just because she wouldn't get pregnant for him or blissfully raise his kids with some other random cur.

After her dark daughter said her piece, Amekaze felt the barely contained anger leaking through and it was oh-so-tempting to stoke that flame right here and now. Hydra was still slighted by how they had parted, and in her eyes despite not seeing the situation in real time, perhaps rightfully so. Charon had not left any of them on good terms, it seemed.

Her nod was small, but true, to back up the words: he didn't trust them, not by those actions, or the mountain they all stood upon. She would have been safest here, she said in addition, curious to hear the justifications for that one that Hydra pressed for. Was she meant to believe he had stowed away with a female in season to no consequence? In his care, alone? Did he really think so lowly of her? She was beginning to wonder that, and this realization was unsettling--even if he missed her, she feared the words were more hollow than he led her to believe.