Hold on to this lullaby; even when the music's gone

The way her legs were folded beneath her on the floor was something she used to do when she was a small child. It was when she used to play those silly hand games with Charlotte or a position of self-meditation she took as she got older. It is these teachings that allow her to sit so calmly beneath his gaze, she could feel it on her and she did nothing merely tilting her head to study him in turn before her gaze shifted to the floor between them. He seems like someone who is level headed, one who thought through his actions as well as his words.

The way his fingers drummed against the chair made her think of her father when she would get into particularly mischievous acts as a girl. Acts that she wouldn't admit but they had occurred up until his death as well. He had so much patience that even had he no clue of what she'd gotten in to, she would have willingly given herself up by the time he was done letting her stew beneath his steel-blue eyes. She'd never turned her gift on him or any family member, her father and Nathaniel being the only two daring enough or commanding enough to ever discipline her.

There was perhaps an almost audible sigh as his fingers ceased their movements and she could only look up when he spoke of her father. She could only nod briefly, barely a move of her head, "he was." Her head was tilted again at his words and she let a shrug of one shoulder accompany her words, "He did not wish for me to fight. So I didn't." Her words are spoken easily, as if she would barely give them another thought, isn't that what all pack members did? Not question their Alpha or his choices? She was sure it must have been so, after all, my siblings had also fallen into line with barely a thought when our Father commanded it.

It is his praise that she seeks now, she had felt the moment her Pack bond had severed when her father was killed and again when it had found a new man to attach to. It was like an electrical current had opened an outlet in her brain and allowed this new feeling of him inside of her. This was entirely new, to feel someone who was not her blood, but in a way she found that she liked it. He does consider her words and she is stopping to think about it, "I do agree. It would be nice to be able toâ€"run without fear." She climbs to her feet when he rises and she follows after him into the kitchen, her eyes lighting up when she sees it, "Anything?" She asks, taking inventory of where everything is just by sight alone.

It takes a moment before she pulls herself away from viewing the kitchen to following him up the stairs. She is noting the hardwood and a mental imagine of her in were-form skidding down the steps is prevalent in her brain making her stifle a giggle at the mental image. They had had carpets at home, less sliding into objects and breaking a bone or a chair leg. She follows him into a room on the left, poking her head out to where he says the bathroom is and she is noting this location too before entering further into the bedroom. "What is aâ€"" she pauses as she goes to peer into the closet, "...true emergency?" Like, thunderstorms? Or more like a fire? Or they were going to get blown to pieces by lightning? When he comments on her clothing she looks down at herself and looks back at him, "Whats wrong withâ€"" She looks down at herself again, "Oh, humans don't like blood, do they?" It is a completely innocent question, she'd never actually seen a human. She clears her throat, "Nothing besides this," she says, raising a bare foot to gesture at the jeans she was wearing, she realizes she's rambling slightly and her mouth clicks shut and she studies the floorboards beneath her feet.