Perhaps what had irked her most about his unwillingness to reconnect had not really been his fault at all. Their mother had never really given up hope that her little boy would return to them, even long after her girls had matured, certainly she had been a good and loving mother but her adoration of the idea of her lost son? well it cut deep. Cirala had always felt more at odds with her mother than her sister, after all, she had reasoned to herself, how could her mother really love her when she so resembled the man that had effectively taken away her previous life? So to know that this fictionalization of her brother had earned such love and devotion had been deeply wounding for the girl; Iorwerth had been unaware just how lucky he was.
Still these were her problems not his, and certainly not things she expected him to know. So it was that she would wait for his response, wondering if he would even deign to answer. He would be right in his assumption that his answer would not satisfy her. She would look away from him and shake her head, sighing. Only because you wouldn?t try to make it work. She thought to herself. She wasn?t sure what it was that had made her so adamant about this, why she cared so much that he hadn?t made an effort he could not know? but it did frustrate her that he had not seen what he could have had.
Finally she would look back at him, hesitating some before speaking. "You could have at least tired for her." She would barley lift her voice above a whisper, she cared little if he didn?t hear her, nor who he assumed she was talking about. Both their mother and their sister had been raised Iorwerth upon a pedestal.
