(Untitled)

[eatinghearts]

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[markedbullets]

[ A little distractedly. ]

They mean what you want them to mean.

[eatinghearts]

That's not an answer.

[markedbullets]

[ A shrug. ] Words mean what you want them to mean. It's that simple.

[eatinghearts]

No it isn't.

[markedbullets]

[ She stares a little. ]

All words differ from person to person, that's why you'll get different answers. It's not bloody rocket science.

[eatinghearts]

That doesn't help.

[markedbullets]

It's not really my problem.

[ It's said with distant indifference, a bored look upon her face. ]

[eatinghearts]

Then why did you answer?

[markedbullets]

That's my own business.

[eatinghearts]

You don't make any sense.

[markedbullets]

I reckon you just don't understand because you've never had-- [ She stops herself abruptly. She was going to say mother, but that would be sharing too much, and Cat doesn't do sharing. So instead, she just glances off with an eyeroll. ] Nevermind.

[eatinghearts]

Never had what?

[markedbullets]

You questions the things you don't know by default. [ Another shrug. She almost seems to sigh, but it's just a sudden intake of breath, not quite a gasp, not quite a sigh. ] You can't understand the words, least you had someone you love enough to call mother.

[eatinghearts]

I did, though.

The sorcerer told me to.

Then she killed them and said she was really my mother.

[markedbullets]

[ Her stare darkens at her words, and there's a sort of a sneer inching closer to her expression. ]

You decide who is your mother. Not always the one that gave birth to you is.

[eatinghearts]

I don't think anyone gave birth to me.