Making Sure Her Silent Words Are Sincere

She hadn’t expected him… his arrival catching Philomena off guard. For a moment everything she felt was in the open, in her eyes, written on her face, and then Philly reigned it all in as if to guard what little bit of herself she had left. Her ears were flicked back but, registering the rainbow marked male’s worry, she was quick to say something.

“Ah… Meme will be delighted with breakfast when she gets up… seems she got pretty tuckered out yesterday. She’s still sleeping.” She didn’t let her blue gaze linger on him long -- just enough to confirm that Memento Mori was alright. That heaviness hung around her though, despite trying to guard her facial expressions it was obvious in her posture; slumped shoulders, downcast gaze… it didn’t take a genius to figure out her heart was plagued with sadness and had been.

“She… is not my first.” Philomena confessed softly, not looking at him.

“I probably made him feel bad… because we couldn’t find my other children… because Venti had died…” Her words were quiet and, if Cel listened close, he could hear the pain that edged them.

“I’ve… never been a good mom… nor a good daughter...” She took a shaky breath.

“...I don’t think he even loved me...” Those words hurt her and yet the young woman took care to make sure her voice did not crack. She shook her head, as if trying to dislodge the negative feelings digging their way deeper into her mind, body, and soul.

“...and one day I’ll lose Meme too.” The last words were barely a whisper as she squeezed her eyes closed. Everything felt so cold, so hopeless… the embers of the fire within were dying… and if something did not stir them to life soon then Philomena, too, would be no more.