<div style="text-align: left"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(211, 211, 211)">Those candies had always been her favorite. Despite her hesitancy at the prospect, sweetening the deal was a negotiating tactic the family employed with grace, and Cayn’s wavering of s'mores and sugar was no exception. Valeria had been a notorious sweet tooth since a young child, that much she could grudgingly admit. </span></span>​</div><br/><div style="text-align: left"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(211, 211, 211)">It was with a slight bow of her head she showed more acceptance towards the idea as she picked absently at the meal before her; stabbing away at the potatoes because they were always the best part when served. What was speared on the edge of the fork was then chewed painfully slow, however, to keep up the appearance of interest for she failed to possess any true hunger.<br/>
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Dear brother seemed in much better spirits, now, the way he chuckled freely at mother’s oblivious nature and how Miranda, for all her jovial nature, then backfired to playfully slap her husband’s arm. Valeria thought it amusing as well, but failed to produce a coherent snicker to the cacophony of good hearted laughter. Her focus was taken away by the lingering hand that slid further up the inside of her leg, unassuming but almost enough to nearly tear an involuntary flinch from her.<br/>
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It was not too different from the affection he’d given her before, perhaps a bit more coy now that nothing seemed off limits due to their union, but Valeria could not help feel aware of every touch. Every little caress sending a shock through frayed nerves. Was it disdain? Disgust? Anticipation? Whatever it was, the young woman kept her face devoid of that telltale emotion and instead concentrated on the task at hand. </span></span>​</div><br/><div style="text-align: left"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(211, 211, 211)">Father was prodding Cayn about his girlfriend, a friendly check to see how that particular relationship was developing. She could vaguely recall Emma - a waif of a thing, slim and curvy in all the right places that could please a male’s roving gaze. She had a good smile on her. Talkative, friendly. Mother and daughter were equal expressions of surprise to hear the couple had fallen apart.<br/>
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“A bit of a shame to hear, Cayn. She was such a nice young lady.” Miranda offered up, aware of the long line of dates her son had yet never stuck with for too long. “For a while I really thought she was going to be the one.” One of mother’s tired eyes winked shut in encouragement as she reached for the salt and dabbed some onto her potatoes with care. Valeria’s thin eyebrows pinched together, and she glanced wearily at her brother, glint of confusion a spark through the depths. </span></span>​</div><br/><div style="text-align: left"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(211, 211, 211)">She’d assumed Emma was to be the girl for Cayn, too. Getting past his serial heartbreaker reputation. That girl, no older than Valeria, had everything a boy could want. And yet, something whispered in the back of her mind that ‘we didn’t work out’ was not painting the full picture. It was no use asking, however. Her turn was up to answer father’s questioning, and the immediate tension in the air between the siblings was palpable. </span></span>​</div><br/><div style="text-align: left"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(211, 211, 211)">Valeria could feel Cayn’s once gentle hand suddenly grow pressuring. Under the table their parents would not know, but to her it was clear what the message in his fingertips suggested. She was desperate to be careful. “Prince? N-No, I…” The harsh wailing of the chair beside her’s silenced the quiet flutter of vocal cords and she swallowed the swell of anxiety. Brother, stretched tall and ominous, may have appeared to just be clearing the table but she knew better. He was unhappy, selfishly showing it in a passive manner dear mother and father would be oblivious to, and Valeria’s blood was turning ice cold when John continued to goad for information.<br/>
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Looking towards Miranda saw no help. Being a mother, she was curious to what her daughter was up to in her maturity and waved a gentle hand for her to proceed. They still presumed her a virgin; still single and searching for a boyfriend. She’d never told them about Albert. But perhaps it was for the better when Valeria cast Cayn a look of concealed fear, worried of his rage as much as she was the monster that lay slumbering in the front of his jeans. </span></span>​</div><br/><div style="text-align: left"><span style="font-family: 'Didact Gothic', 'sans-serif'"><span class="fixed-color" style="color:rgb(211, 211, 211)">She framed her honesty with lies.<br/>
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“I mean, there are some boys that have caught my eye, but…” For a moment her train of thought almost derailed, but it was quickly saved by a half-hearted reference to childhood games. “Cayn’s my prince. He’s always been a knight in shining armor, and I don’t really need another around the house right now.” She played off Albert, easily swerving around the brunt of the question. There was a dull ache to admit to her parents the truth of her boyfriend, but inciting Cayn’s wrath was something to avoid. <br/>
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If she could appease to his sense of importance maybe that dark look in his eyes would fade. Valeria was just nailing shut her coffin with everything she said. </span></span>​</div>