The complicated matter of her conception had been no real secret for it had become a topic of debate even as she had drawn her first birth, her very existence judged before she had the words to defend herself, to speak her piece upon it. But then what where her thoughts on it. Many times she had turned the thought over in her mind, had gently tried to coax from it some reasoning until her patience had simply broken, swallowed by a typhoon of anger bubbling within her chest. Still so young though her experiences and the world about her had forced her to grow, to mature at at pace no child should have to, she had not the words needed to properly speak of her thoughts.

Yet to consider Pincher, the man who had fathered them simply because the mood had struck him, because there was one around willing to let him sleep with her, a good father was an idea she would scoff at. Indeed he was a hard-working and driven man, capable of so much beneath the immense pressure which he had put upon himself, but the wear was present, a strain to a select few. Though Sylvina might have come to form high opinions about him there was no such thing for her, nothing but the gnawing worry, the want to please and yet it was tempered.

She had seen the animosity which had broken apart father and son, the way Coldblue came to look upon their father, his words a sharp knife she had long since tried to abandon yet found in her hand each time, words upon her tongue seeking to be released only for her to swallow them once more. The same animosity had begun to grow within their chest, a delicate flower with razor-sharp petals cutting through her as it came to grow out of control. It did not matter how many attempts they had come to make to reach out to him, to find some way to make him proud of her actions it seemed only to come tumbling down once more, the bitter taste of defeat all too common.

Aphra. The name had long since lost meaning, any feeling born from the bond of mother and daughter severed when she had become little more than a ghost fluttering about the edge of thought, simply a piece of her past. To say Aita cared little for her mother would be a rather large understatement, rather she had become nothing to the child, a figment of her imagination if nothing more. Even to feel the word mother upon her tongue, to taste it there as she prepared to speak it, felt as though poison seeped through her tongue, eating away at it until it could not move to make the sound any longer. What point was there in attempting to care for one who didn't care for her, who had so perfectly removed herself from her life as though she were an ill-fitting puzzle piece merely filling a space until the right piece was found.

In many ways it seemed a flip was present in terms of the sisters feelings – her anger and love was a mixed thing, presented towards Pincher with an uneasy air, tempered by something she had no words to describe. And Aphra was nothing, no hatred lingered there for her heart had hardened to her, breaking the ties as easily as one might cut through string with no care to see the frayed ends reconnected once more. Where only unconditional love was present Aita formed more complicated bonds, had found little beyond the facade Pincher extended to the word, those private moments between father and daughter tense for what was there to say when the two were so alike. Like father like daughter, she was a creature with a darkness hiding it all behind a false grin.

Dark ears swivelled around when a cry rose – too familiar to be comfortable, the pain within it hitting too close to her heart for her not to force herself up, seeking the source. Left sodden, for Aita had taken to sitting at the very edge of the surf and allowing the water to wash over her paws, feeling them become numb and left to tingle, a sensation both unpleasant and yet satisfying, she was slowed by the extra weight of water in her thick pelt, each step short and quick. Caeser was the first to catch the dark kitten's attention, the worried little frown which had been curling her lips deepening, a sharp edge to it now as she looked upon her grandfather. Same as his daughter there was little feeling of warmth or love shared between them, nor did Aita care to be the one to extend the torch of friendship, petty as it was she saw no reason for it and so forwent caring for him.

“Can't ya see she needs 'elp,” she snapped, the words laced with venom, as she brushed by the demon, teeth bared at him before her lips curled once more into a frown. Dipping down onto her belly she slowly crept closer, dragging her weight forward until she was within arms reach of Sylvina but never reaching to touch her, not yet. Unprepared for such a situation she held no real idea of how to handle things, simply working with the information she had on hand, the darkened patches upon her sister catching her eye. Drawn to the carcass she uttered a soft cuss beneath her breath, reaching out to gently place a paw atop Sylvina's, speaking only so she could hear.

“Ya're okay, was an... accidin, no un will be un'appy or angry,” murmuring in a soft tone she pulled herself a tiny bit closer, making a move to draw her sister towards her, yet being sure her intent was known and giving Sylvina a chance to stop her if it wasn't what she wanted.

the tyhpoon — minnow — tags