Altan positioned tentatively her improvised hijab over her hair and sighed gratefully. She took a few steps outside, and sat beside the smaller skeleton on the wooden porch.
_ “Your brother is a good man”, she stated, finishing to tie the red cloth around her head.
_ ”my brother is super cool.”
_ “Yes. He is. How much older than him are you ?”
His smile took an intrigued shape, but conceded her an answer.
_ “I am fourteen years older than the twins.”
The skeleton stared at her, surprised.
_ “how old are ya, kid ?”
_ “I am twenty one. I am afraid i have not been a kid in a long time.”
She sighed, staring at her younger siblings.
_ “And neither have they.”
She could remember dark times. She could remember hours the eight of them spent cramped in their cellar, hiding away from their mom’s eyes. She could remember the quiet tears of Claudia, Frisk apathetic face and their eyes staring into nothingness, and Rowan putting all his weight against the wooden door to prevent their mother coming in. She could remember the noise their mother made, pouncing against the door, screaming obscenities at Chara, and the sound of their father trying to calm her by all means possible. She could remember Aveline, tucked into Cal’s embrace, the both of them deadly silent, and Sharon violently shaking beside them. She could remember Chara, nose broken, cheeks cut, tongue bitten and blood flowing on their face, staring with so much distress into her eyes. She could remember herself, holding the little body close to her torso, trying to quiet pained whispers, ignoring the aches she got by putting herself between her mom and the young child, all of her being focused on the small human in her arms.
She could remember dark times.
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