The laughter that bubbles from her throat is light, enjoyable, and somehow even beautiful as the notes twirl and dance around their ears. "You'd be the king chipmunk," she replies with a jagged smile still broadly stretched across her lips. A fleeting image springs to mind and ignites another small bout of laughter before she settles into a more thoughtful expression like him.
He remembers, she muses, as a pang of envy stabs into her. Shiya is happy for him; happy that he has memories to clutch onto even in the darkest of nights when he is alone. It built him into what he is now and for that, even she is grateful. Fennick has only been kind to her despite her confusion and aimless wandering in their home. Somehow a wall had been built that locked her here unbeknownst to her. Rather than bombard her with questions or cruelty he offered an amiable approach that reassured her that she wouldn't be harmed.
With Fennick, she is safe.
"You know your half siblings? Lucky duck!" Little does she know that she has met at least one of her siblings although there are certainly many more. The memory of Vulgaris rattles in the deep crevices of her mind, but Eight's magic is keeping it all pent in the shadows. "Honestly, I can only remember Eight." Nothing more. Every memory she has contains his strong touch, his embrace, his rumbling voice.
A chill runs down her spine.
"I know there has to be more though. I must have had more in life than Eight." And, oh, did she. Shiya has children and she has had friends and once a star-crossed love. There are so many things that she has seen, felt, and heard in life but it all destroyed her. Life poisoned her with pain and heartbreak; she didn't want to go on and Eight fed off that. He cured her but he also toyed with her in ways she wouldn't understand. He erased everything that broke her down but he also decimated everything else.
Her uneasiness of the unknown shows in the curve of a frown, but she manages a small grin when Fennick mentions his parents. "A whale?" Shock suddenly brightens her gaze as she inches toward him. Their bodies nearly touch as she searches across him. "That's funny. You don't seem like a half whale species," an inquisitive tilt of her head allows a final lookover before she withdraws away from him and meets his eyes. "We're both oddballs then," it somehow comforts her to think she's not alone, "I guess one of my parents had to have been a snake." If only she had met Larva and remembered mother. If only she knew how she was a mirror image of father. Then maybe she wouldn't feel so alone.
A breath catches in her throat as he offers his help, his shoulder to lean on. Shiya's hesitation is unexpected as she searches for something to say. "Thank you," she manages to whisper after swallowing past the lump in her throat. "I just don't know where I would begin," the lost girl says with a hint of resignation.
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