For a fatherless son.

And find no face but my own, and you think that's funny.

It is good for me


The girl's contemplative gaze would follow the stranger's as he moved to sit beside her; never relenting in their grasp or expression. Though her mind would become alight with the man's next words, no change of expression would betray her distant affect. Circe felt no need to question the statement, observing those eyes which were a paler reflection of her own. My name is Circe. She would speak, her deep voice soft and less guarded. Watching him carefully as she shifted herself a bit closer, feeling the bitterness of the cold and seeking his warmth. Though she understood her siblings didn't dislike her the distance between their polar personalities made it little difference that they were related. In this moment she had the opportunity to forge a different relationship with an entirely new brother and she would seize the opportunity with subtle and slow intent.





To have you grab my nose, a ladder rung.

One day you may touch what's wrong ---



She pondered his last inquiry a moment, realizing that she was not aware just what her father's business was when he was away from the den. He was not a private person, but a busy one and it mattered little to her what he was doing when he wasn't with them. This fact combined with her burning wanderlust left her a poor source for such information. I am not often home. I suppose he intends to take the red forest again. She would reply, considering the last conversation the family had, had as a whole. That had been the last time she had seen her mother. Months ago. Who knew how much weight the discussion held now. With her mother in thought Circe would pose her own question, Is Medusa your mother as well? a thought aloud.