She was born to be free,
The words tore through her. She didn’t register the bite, too consumed by the revelation. Her voice came out weak, a melancholy smile on her lips. ”I would hope you could recognize your own mother.” Tears gathered in her eyes. Could it really be true? Had her daughter changed so much that she’d forgotten who she was? Forgotten where she’d come from?
It was almost too much for her to take in. A panic spread through her body, a need to shake Thalassa out of whatever magic had its hold on her. She wanted to scream and cry out to the gods like a mad woman. How did this happen? How could she fix this? Who could she blame? Athena nearly burst apart at the seems, agony for what had been stolen from her.
But had she been the only one to suffer?
Cold realization finally settled in, the final nail in her coffin of grief. She had to hold back the urge to fall apart, to let this be the end. For Thalassa, she had to be strong. She gave a sad smile, wiping the tears from her eyes and taking a shaky breath to strengthen her resolve. ”But I guess that’s not the case.” Like all mothers, she compartmentalized her feelings, preparing to deal with them once alone.
It didn't make her immune to the snap of Thalassa's question. Athena flinched at the tone, picking her response carefully. ”You’re...” an Ancient ”different than before.” She didn't want to alienate her daughter further, yet she couldn't deny the facts. Her appearance wasn't the only thing that had changed. The standoffish and defensive aggression wasn't something she'd ever seen in Lassie. As if it might help, she asked, "Do you remember anything?" Unlike Thalassa, there was no accusation in her voice, just a soft probing, a desire to understand. Maybe there was a reason she'd left. Maybe there was still a chance for them to salvage what remained.
It was almost too much for her to take in. A panic spread through her body, a need to shake Thalassa out of whatever magic had its hold on her. She wanted to scream and cry out to the gods like a mad woman. How did this happen? How could she fix this? Who could she blame? Athena nearly burst apart at the seems, agony for what had been stolen from her.
But had she been the only one to suffer?
Cold realization finally settled in, the final nail in her coffin of grief. She had to hold back the urge to fall apart, to let this be the end. For Thalassa, she had to be strong. She gave a sad smile, wiping the tears from her eyes and taking a shaky breath to strengthen her resolve. ”But I guess that’s not the case.” Like all mothers, she compartmentalized her feelings, preparing to deal with them once alone.
It didn't make her immune to the snap of Thalassa's question. Athena flinched at the tone, picking her response carefully. ”You’re...” an Ancient ”different than before.” She didn't want to alienate her daughter further, yet she couldn't deny the facts. Her appearance wasn't the only thing that had changed. The standoffish and defensive aggression wasn't something she'd ever seen in Lassie. As if it might help, she asked, "Do you remember anything?" Unlike Thalassa, there was no accusation in her voice, just a soft probing, a desire to understand. Maybe there was a reason she'd left. Maybe there was still a chance for them to salvage what remained.
let her run wild in her own way
and you will never lose her.
and you will never lose her.
Athena
