DEAR FRIEND as you know,  your flowers are withering
your mother's gone insane, your leaves have drifted away.
    but the clouds are clearing up
        and i've come reveling, burning incandescently,
                                              like a bastard on the burning sea.

YOU'RE JUST LIKE YOUR FATHER,
BURIED DEEP UNDER THE WATER.

Perhaps it was a Roux curse; the way life went. But no, probably not, it was simply just the weight of being alive in general, no matter who you were, where you came from. It took and gave as it pleased. Whether or not karma was real, it was undeniable that bad decisions usually lead to bar outcomes, and the same being true for the opposite side of things as well. Either way, things would always have the potential to be better, just as they could be worse. It was hard to deny, though, that things were less than ideal for a majority of the Roux family now. It was a simple effect, of the events that had unfolded over the past three months, not that Goldie was certain over what exactly all had happened anymore. No one seemed eager to speak about it, and she wasn't one to push with something like that.

It wasn't exactly on the forefront of her mind, anyway. At least, not directly. The tigress was focused on many different things, though tried to keep it all one at a time, so not to overwhelm her head. The feeling of loneliness as she stayed in the temple remains present, only relieved when someone may take the time to see her, speak to her. It was as often as they could make it, and it was better with Roan being back, but everyone was busy with their own things, and she could only entertain herself so long with painting before that got old. Most weren't exactly the happiest when they approached her regardless, more so a silent grief, and a worry as they watch her. She didn't want to cause any more worry, though, so she remains. There was a sense of dread she couldn't explain ever since she'd visited her old hut, and collapsed upon the beach. Why did she still feel pain for things she couldn't even recall? How was she supposed to fix that? She couldn't. The only thing she could do, to make things better, was rest. Her head would never fully recover, and the Goldenluxury they'd known would never return, never the same, and the only thing she could do about it was not make anything worse. So she wouldn't. At least, she'd try her best not to.

Riftweaver would find his mother in the temple, gaze distant as she stares at the stone walls filled with herbs. Her eyes stared at none in particular, seemingly lost in their own existence. It wasn't until the boy spoke up that the female would acknowledge she knew he was there at all. Her eyes would shift, looking towards him now, feathered ears perked forward. He wished to speak, similarly to his brother recently. She was fine with that. She wanted to talk, too. It was one of the few things that helped her during these times. She wanted to be with her sons, wanted to take away their pain and know them as she had before. She listens quietly as he explains himself, stating he wasn't doing well. She shares the sentiment.

Her head rises, full attention on the other. Among everything else, one thing she could feel grateful for was that he felt comfortable enough to speak to. She was here, no matter what. She was here. "You n' me both," she'd offer as a small joke before turning more serious, tapping the ground in front of her. ]"What's troublin' you, mo mhac?"

*mobile post at work, excuse any weirdness