Ain't my fault it's all I got

He didn't press her anymore on the issue of the wrongness of what she'd done and whether she deserved the guilt that plagued her these days, and for that Mara was grateful. If the man had kept trying she might have fought him on the issue. It wasn't just because of some sulky sense of self-hatred she'd developed, though she had that in spades, but rather because this conscience she seemed to have developed wouldn't allow her to make any less of the seriousness of how she'd lived her life.

Hearing the tale of Inverno's tragic life brought out a sense of morbid curiosity in Mara. Her birth pack had engaged in plenty of violent raids. Briefly she wondered if it had been them that slaughtered this man's pack but... No, the pack Mara came from enjoyed bloodshed and battle, but not unfairly ambushing others in the dark of night. There was no sport in that, no honor. Sighing out the wave of relief she felt, the dark woman canted her head. "It sounds like life has it out for you," she mused. There was a small pang of sympathy in her chest, but expressing that wasn't something she was well suited to do. Stretching out a forelimb she gazed absently at her claws as she flexed out her toes.

"I'm curious... If you don't mind my prying?" she paused to allow for an answer, but really Mara was keen on asking either way so she went for it, "What was she like? This woman you loved?" She might walk it back if he seemed upset, but Mara wanted to know. She loved her kids, but Mara had never been terribly thrilled with their father. He'd been an outlet, and she'd accidentally gotten tangled up with him because of it, but Mara had never really cared about anyone in a romantic way. What made someone love someone else like that?