When I'm here, I long for the warm comforts and soft edges of home. When I'm here, everything is hard and dark and the conflict between what I knew as a child and what I see before me now tears at me.
This figure, this so-called father of mine. What should I think of someone who does what he does? How do I reconcile that with what is before me?
Shaking my fist does little do dispel the damage I've done to my knuckles via Gerald's person, but it does distract me from the familiar stranger on the floor. The tile patterns in the Court, once a welcoming lacework of words and spells, now forms a web that has ensnared half of what determined me. What does what he's become reflect about me? Is his insanity mine? Do we share that off core? Will I someday be in his place, answering for deeds so damaging and anathema that the question isn't whether he's going to the Void, but why he isn't there already and I can't think like this...
Katherine Cruxradia
Insanity - Oingo Boingo