03-15-2021, 12:52 AM
Ryatah
— there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don't you agree?
She can see as the pain begins to ease from the girl, but her own worry remains knotted in her chest. She cannot shake the feeling that she knows her, or that she should know her. There is something about her face that reminds her of Ripley—not transformed, alien Ripley, but the Ripley she had given birth to, the Ripley she had watched grow. The Ripley that had been a brilliant, vibrant girl, and not the feral beast she was now.
But feral or not, Ryatah was protective of her daughter, maybe even more so than her other children. The one who needed protection the least, but also the one most likely to be misunderstood. She knew Ripley had attacked her own siblings—Cassian and Evenstar, at least that she knew of and while she would never want anything to happen to either of them, she knew Ripley had no conscious idea what she was doing.
It’s why even though she feels for this girl—this girl that is maybe related, or maybe just an escaped prey, she isn’t sure yet—she cannot bring herself to blame Ripley at all. She acted in the only way that she knew how, like anyone would.
“I’m afraid I can’t heal that,” she tells her softly, sadly, when she speaks of heartache. She reaches down again, to gently brush her nose against the top of her neck. “But it goes away eventually. Sometimes it just takes a while.” She realizes that she is perhaps too close for the other girl’s comfort; personal space has never been something she was very aware of. But she withdraws just a little, her dark eyes still on the girl’s face when she says, “My name is Ryatah.”
But feral or not, Ryatah was protective of her daughter, maybe even more so than her other children. The one who needed protection the least, but also the one most likely to be misunderstood. She knew Ripley had attacked her own siblings—Cassian and Evenstar, at least that she knew of and while she would never want anything to happen to either of them, she knew Ripley had no conscious idea what she was doing.
It’s why even though she feels for this girl—this girl that is maybe related, or maybe just an escaped prey, she isn’t sure yet—she cannot bring herself to blame Ripley at all. She acted in the only way that she knew how, like anyone would.
“I’m afraid I can’t heal that,” she tells her softly, sadly, when she speaks of heartache. She reaches down again, to gently brush her nose against the top of her neck. “But it goes away eventually. Sometimes it just takes a while.” She realizes that she is perhaps too close for the other girl’s comfort; personal space has never been something she was very aware of. But she withdraws just a little, her dark eyes still on the girl’s face when she says, “My name is Ryatah.”
there's something wretched about this, something so precious about this, oh what a sin —
@[Nostromo]