Snowforest Taiga what's left of our eden's garden to grow?

she was not well versed in dealing with nuisance children, and her attempt at scaring the girl off with tales of a fabricated boogeyman was actually counterproductive to her wants. the child appeared to have believed her every word, acting restless, but it wasn't enough to glean her the solitude she desperately sought. 
phaedra blinked lethargically, nodding off before startling into consciousness again many times over. meanwhile, ciri was fumbling with her words (she felt a little mocked, but she was too sleepyheaded to register it), mouthing off about her clout, when—

"... fuck off ..."

when eavesdropping on her parents fight, that four-letter word had been used in a scathing manner. whilst phaedra had more foul invectives in her vernacular than what was probably appropriate for a child, she knew that the f-word was an ineffable one condemned from her tongue. 

phaedra puckered her lips thoughtfully and glanced, lids half-staff, down at the girl from her cathedra of flowers. voice muzzy with listlessness, she abruptly exclaimed (after ciri had finished her failsafe measures for dealing with the black onthat), 

"hey, can you fuck off?"

it dropped from her mouth like a guillotine's blade, sharp and heavy and gruesome.