That isn't what she meant, but Alodia doesn't give a damn how Moira interprets her words. She hates her cousin in this moment, suddenly and viciously and with all the rage she possesses. How dare she. How dare she? If her cousin wasn't pregnant, she'd have slapped her across the face by now. Instead, she clenches her hands into fists until the nails bite into her skin, her white knuckles and flashing eyes the only outward indications of the fury coursing through her veins.
"I didn't say that," she says cooly, "but I think the fact that that's how you heard it says quite a lot about you, no?"
And here is the proof that Moira's not nearly as good at this sort of thing as she is (Alodia feels a little burst of irrational superiority even through her anger): she's keeping the focus on their parents. And when the focus is on parents, the children of Violet Coombs will lose every. Single. Time.
"Maybe he didn't want me. My mother does, though, and she's not a murderous psychopath bitch who gets off on ruining innocent people's lives. Pretty sure I win in the parents department, cousin."
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"I didn't say that," she says cooly, "but I think the fact that that's how you heard it says quite a lot about you, no?"
And here is the proof that Moira's not nearly as good at this sort of thing as she is (Alodia feels a little burst of irrational superiority even through her anger): she's keeping the focus on their parents. And when the focus is on parents, the children of Violet Coombs will lose every. Single. Time.
"Maybe he didn't want me. My mother does, though, and she's not a murderous psychopath bitch who gets off on ruining innocent people's lives. Pretty sure I win in the parents department, cousin."