The food wasn't all that bad, being more flavorful then her own cooking, but not as good as some meals she'd had. Might have been the company, or the solid feeling in her gut. Or maybe just the way her heart wrenched every time she looked at her mother.
Her mother seemed rather preoccupied, talking as they ate. Mostly about herself and what she'd been doing, but hardly anything useful or helpful. She even seemed almost sad. Yukale picked at her meal, having left the wine almost completely untouched. Something about it had tasted oddly familiar, and made her sick to her stomach. She glanced up at her mother, asking, "Do you regret any of it?"
Nithil'Zir seemed off put by the question, "Why would I do anything of the sort? I have more here than I ever did before I came."
She looked at the rogue and instantly realized it was the wrong thing to say, "I am sorry, daughter-mine, I did not mean to imply-"
"Well you damn well did!" Yukale pushed the remainder of her meal away, sitting back and folding her arms impertinently, "I should be the one that's sorry, we obviously weren't enough. Besides, I don't exactly see my grandfather sitting at this table, do I?"
Sounding hesitant, the older woman replied, "He was busy, I did not wish to disturb him."
Yukale pointed accusingly, "You're not on very good terms with him. In fact..." She folded her arms again, smirking, "You were jealous of how close my father and I were. So you left everything you knew, to find what you hated only to get the cold shoulder from your own-"
"Shut up!" Nithil'Zir slammed her hands down on the table, rising to her feet as she did so, "You know nothing of that! You were just a little daddy's girl who never gave her mother the ti-"
Yukale stood, slamming her own hands on the table in an unconsciously perfect imitation of her mother, "Mother I loved you! And I still love you despite all this. I'll be damned if I stand by and do nothing while you further slide into this addiction!"
Faette looked between them rapidly, much like one would observe a tennis game or Warsong match. She slowly raised a hand, as though asking permission to speak. She didn't wait for it, asking, "Would theez be a bad time to bring in ze dessert?"
