Stages of grief

"Eska"

He didn't need to say it. She knew. Please, don't say it. And then he went against her mental wishes and uttered the words that she hadn't wanted to hear. She already knew, but hearing it spoken aloud made things so much worse. "Oh," was her soft response. A whisper, really. The woman's golden eyes were open wide and she refused to blink. If she blinked, the tears that had begun to build would flow over and she didn't want that. She didn't need to cry for a woman that she barely knew, right?

Ulric went on to say that Resin had died while fighting for her home, pack and family. That... soothed Eska somewhat. In her last moments, had her mother been herself? Had she known who she was and what she was fighting for? They would never know the answers to those questions. No one would ever speak to the woman ever again. Eska would never speak to her.

Raising one paw, the brindle pelted woman wiped away the bastard tears that had gone against her will and slid down her cheeks. "Thank you," she cleared her throat. "Thank you for letting me know." The woman turned away from the giant man, wiping a few more rogue tears from her cheeks. Well, she hadn't planned on crying. She hadn't planned on letting emotions take hold at all, but she was not her mother. Eska was less emotional than most, but when she felt, she felt deeply.

Seating herself in the freshly growing grasses of the plains, the masked woman released soft breaths and rivers of tears. Her shoulders shook as she released the grief within her. The fae kept her back to the man. He was suffering enough on his own. She didn't need to add her suffering to it.