(How bold you are, sweet girl)
Family is always important, no?
(It used to be. Not anymore)
Torn family. Fucked up family. That's what we are.
He sees her, smells her, and almost reaches out to touch her. There is a resemblance in her chiseled face that reminds him so much of mother, of Smolder. A wave of uncertainty - or is it disgust - rattles through him as his empty eyes drunkenly stare. Her eyes, her face, the way she moves; it's all so familiar and yet foreign all at once. Sinder turns slowly to face her as she lessens the space between them, step by slow step. Are you quite alright, she asks, and he nearly laughs. He has been convincing himself that he is alright but there is a lingering pit inside him that is a reminder of losing what family he had.
Smolder.
(She left like mother)
She left like everyone else had.
The woven muscles of his jaws clench, dancing beneath his skin as he still mulls her question over and over. There was one thing - one person - he always tried to keep near and she is what slipped between his fingers into oblivion. Unable to speak Sinder simply expels a snort, blinks, and looks away thoughtfully. The cool touch of the breeze fingers through his mane as a part of him tries to disregard the girl, but he can't. Something about her is pulling him in, bringing him a step nearer despite his subconscious reluctance.
There is no other way to communicate.
(She's the bastard child)
She's related.
(Through a fucked up, abandoning mother)
When they touch it isn't with the tenderness of family. Sinder has never - will never - be gentle. His teeth grope for her neck to pull her closer to him. There is likely a moment of struggle which he braces for (as Smolder always unintentionally taught him to do) but once there is enough settlement his lips find the arch of her neck. "Ss..d..." air is expelled past his lips and clamped teeth to make the simplest of noises, trying to add depth when he tries lipping his name into the warmth of her skin. He hopes she grasps it and latches onto the hiss of air that is his voice but whether she does or does not he is already withdrawing. His hooded eyes find Cress' eyes as he cringes away from the memory of his mother while her name hangs idly in the space between them.
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