[div style="width: 45%; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 13px;"]//it's fine!!

Zjarr could've left a long time ago if he wanted, long after Pele straight up rejected his desperate attempts to achieve some reconciliation and bounded off to God knows where. He knew to take a hint, especially with a daughter that was growing into something more mature than a child. Sure, an adolescent. It was strange to admit that he never had a teenage kid before. Only youngsters. Well, he had an adoptive daughter in a distant realm that miraculously lived to apprenticeship, but here was where he knew he would live the rest of his likely immortal self out, unless some vengeful prick disconnected his head from the rest of his body somehow. Or maybe he'd do it to himself and beat some opportunistic bastard to the punch. With a heavy sigh he would come to realize that the dream of witnessing something of his creation developing into a mature adult and fleshing themselves out as true members of society was something that had been well within his reach. Yet due to his selfishness, his nomadic ways, his narrow mind, he fucked it all up. As usual. But hey, no point beating a dead horse again, eh?

Of course that was what he thought. He figured he could move on until he saw the form of Lunafreya appear. And recalling what his own child had explained to him, his teeth grinded against one another in sheer rage. You fucking bitch, you left them? YOU FUCKING LEFT THEM. YOU JUST WENT OUT AND FUCKED OFF TO WHO KNOWS FUCKING WHERE AND LEFT YOUR OWN CHILDREN BEHIND.

A soft, rapid exhale as his ears twitched. You're just like me. I'm no better.

"Thought you were gone for good, heh," the wolf snorted, his voice laced with sarcasm and a hint of malice. Directed to whom? Well, the both of them, really. He despised Luna's leaving her children, but not nearly as much as he despised himself for not even bothering to arrive within the first few months of their fucking existence. Perhaps she was willing to explain the matter. He was done with screaming matches, done with anger. He was done. And he wanted answers.

"I'll cut to the chase. Why'd ya desert 'em?"

[div style="width: 45%; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 13px;"]His cranium tilted ever so slightly at her meek and quiet response; in all honesty, he was expecting retaliation. A screaming match. A fight. At the very least, a string of excuses. Maybe a bit of name-calling and insults to spice things up. But there was a very obvious air of submission around the other female, highlighted with her bowing of the head. At last there would be an excuse: "I have no recollection of anything aside from a few weeks ago to today." And here he couldn't tell if he wanted to punch something or sit down and try to explain.

The latter, it appeared, would be the only possible solution, but the former would bring the most pleasure to the wolf. He would restrain himself for now.

"Well, please, dear, pull up a chair 'n' lemme tell ya a goddamn story," Zjarr finally drawled, his tail lashing as he spoke. Artificial claws of metal tapped against the ground almost impatiently; he was struggling to maintain his composure, struggling to keep his booming, thundering voice at bay, at something above a mere mumble.

"I'm going to assume you're not yankin' my chain here and you really are a hopeless case of amnesia. Look, I get it. Amnesia is a bitch. Been there, done that. So...let's start at the beginning. I'm Zjarr. I'm a blacksmith. I deal arms. I travel. And no need for an introduction on your part—I know who you are. We've met before.

"Things, erm...led to other things...between us. I'll keep it at that. Before I know it, I hear lil' birdies talkin' 'bout how I'mma be a baby daddy. I said, 'okay, great.' Kids. Nice. But I had a business to tend to. And I hoped, every single goddamn day, that at the very least they would grow in an environment where they would be safe. With a mother. With friends who would protect them." There was more to his absence than just business: at the time he was a raging alcoholic, a dangerous one. It would be a foolish decision to let a creature as that linger around children...or anyone, for that matter.

"The storm clouds pass. I'm better off. I pay a visit. I have never seen my children before that. Why? Because they never visited. You never visited. But I digress. I come to the Ascendants. I have myself nice 'n' straight. And then my daughter comes to me, shouts in my fucking face, and leaves. My other children? Who the fuck knows? They all fuckin' disappeared, assumed dead. And their mother? ...Well, she left.

"Look, hon, I'm a prick. I'm an asshole. I know it, you know it, any dude with fuckin' ears in the Ascendants knows it. No one wants their kids around me. Hell, my kids don't want me around 'em. Because I'm a...careless...fucking...prick..." He struggled to compose himself now, his throat tightening and threatening to strangle him if he dared to speak once more. His voice crumbled like a wall being torn down, torn to reveal an intriguing nature for a demon—caring. He cared for his children, he loved his children so fucking much, but he hated himself for not being there, he hated himself for disrupting their lives by showing up. And maybe he hated Lunafreya for leaving them to.

"You were...you were gone, too. Least that's what I heard..." The cyborg slunk back now, forcing down heavy inhales and releasing broken exhales. He couldn't do this anymore. His lust for vengeance was missing altogether. His desire for reconciliation was gone. It was over. There was nothing more he could do.

"We don't deserve her, Lunafreya. She's better off...with the family she found. Not the one she was born into."

[div style="width: 45%; line-height: 14px; text-align: justify; font-family: arial; font-size: 13px;"]//mobile oof

For once the cyborg wolf's malice and rage began to ebb into irritation as exhaustion settled in, his broad shoulders drooping weakly as he listened to the female speak. A horrible mother, she would say. No better than he was. They were both...awful parents. Even the conception of the children was cruel. They weren't intending for kids in the first place. Intoxication has settled into his dirty mind, the slightest of it, and that led to where they sat now, wallowing in their sorrows and contemplating their lost flesh and blood.

"Her name is Pele. And there was another. Sylvia. I don't know where she is. I've...never seen her." Hesitantly the demon lifted his brown hues and watched the other's pupils waver and dance like flames, yet unlike a fire, there was nothing spectacular about this situation. Perhaps the only thing remotely intriguing about it was their shared emotions. And for once Zjarr felt his anger fade to remorse and despair, just as he has felt when he learned of his doings and the consequences of his actions. He watched the female speak and frowned. Though his heart was silent he could just feel it itching to sing a bluesy tune, a soft little beat. For once he pitied the female, felt genuinely awful.

He wanted to come to her rescue. Come to anyone's rescue. Just once.

"Luna, she's gone. I tried to look for her here. A-and she-she's left. I dunno where. But she's not in the Ascendants anymore." His teeth grinded against one another once more, struggling to stifle his overwhelming and intimate emotions. No, he would prevail. He had to stay strong.

"But...if you wanna find her, I'll help ya. I can...try to. We can find her together." It was an incredibly ballsy move to come after his daughter a second time after what had already unfolded, but he didn't care. Maybe there was a sliver of hope that she would come to accept him. It was too late to father her, sure, but there was enough time to be on good terms...as close as he could, at least.