Seated with daughter, and son - or grandson, whatever they'd decided to pose as now...
An elven woman's gaze drifted beyond to the never-ending ocean view.
A clawed finger trailing around the rim of a teacup, dull expression similar to the others.
"Do you hate them yet, boy?"
-
"They despise you, they always will, until their dying breaths."
-
"They lie worse than we do; claiming they once cared... at least we don't offer such pity."
She rose then, swaying to the kitchen with her daughter. Raising the young girl to sit on the counter as she offered the kettle, the wise words of;
"Careful,"
offered as she watched the child refill the cup...