Jocasta climbed out of the cab she took to Luton from the airport. After splitting ways with Kevan, she found herself alone in this neighborhood full of houses with more bricks that she could count.

The drive took an hour, and from the backseat, she thought of how she should approach her mother. It was odd that when Markel pulled her records from the overseer's records, it only said one name for what should have been two parents. And when Jaq unlocked Primeva's innermost records, the same name greeted her—Alyssa Griffiths. It was a question that even Jaq had no answers to.

"You should hear it directly from her," Jaq had said long after their initial altercation had died down to wary caution around each other. "She would have her reasons."

Which supported Markel's theory behind his motivation of making them trek across the world in search for a shred of their lives before Primeva. What did the others find? Were they able to find fulfillment with the truth? Perhaps she would get to hear all about it when she reached Mongolia. She did a quick search, and it seemed the dumplings were a thing to try there.

Before her stomach could growl at the prospect of food she wouldn't have until a full day later, she slammed the cab's door and watched the car peel off into the horizon, leaving her alone in the middle of a pavement. A cold breeze blew across the street, making her grateful for the coat Jaq included in the kit she gave Jocasta. She pursed her lips and tucked her hands into the pockets.

The houses in this neighborhood stood in neat arrays, towering over her and blocking the early morning light from reaching the pavement fully. Thick, gray clouds shielded most of the blue overhead, and she couldn't deny it dampened her mood a bit. Her boots crunched against the fallen leaves on the pavement, keeping the spindly, bald roadside trees on her periphery. She came up to the specific house the map pointed her to and stepped into the porch. Her knuckles rapped the splintering wood and the peeling paint.

"Coming!" a feminine voice rippled from the foyer. The door opened, and a dark-haired woman opened the door the whole way. Blakc, hawk-like eyes studied Jocasta from head to toe. "Who're you supposed to be?"

Jocasta opened her mouth to spit out a curt reply but promptly closed it. She opted for a more diplomatic tone instead. "I know it's going to sound bollocks—"

"It probably is, if you lead by that," the woman answered. Then, she blew a breath and jerked her head towards the foyer. "Well, come in and have a spot, at least. You came all the way."

Quite the sunshine, wasn't she?

Jocasta tramped inside, gripping the straps of her bag so tightly her knuckles matched the pale sheen of her hair. Said locks stayed hidden underneath a black, baseball cap. She didn't want to give the woman more weirdness in one fell swoop.

"You can sit there," Alyssa said, disappearing into the kitchen. Soon, hearty clinks of ceramic and silverware rang from behind the divider. Her voice was a bit muffled from the distance between the counter and the lounge. "Did you travel here alone?"

A direct counter to her original attitude. That was some insane self-monitoring skills. Jocasta cleared her throat. "Yeah," she said. "I came specifically for you. Does that scare you?"

The woman bustled towards the low-lying table before Jocasta's chosen seat. She pushed a steaming cup of tea near the tip of Jocasta's knee. "Have a sip," Alyssa said. "It's Earl Grey."

Jocasta eyed the dark red liquid steaming from the ceramic mug. Looked delicious, at least. She raised the cup from the table and took a swig. It hasn't the best aftertaste, but she could live with it. "Are you not cautious at all?" Jocasta prodded, setting the cup down when she had her fill. She didn't want to have to go on the ride back to the airport. "I could be a thief or something."

Alyssa scoffed. "A kid?" she said. "I've lived for a long time in this area to know which piss came from whose dog. I wouldn't have opened the door at all had I suspected you. You're here for something else, yes?"

"That's correct, at least," Jocasta said. "Do you have any guesses?"

The woman tapped her chin after taking a quick sip of her tea. "We have almost the same features. I've yet to see your hair, but I surmise it's probably the darkest shade, like mine," she said. "You said you're here for me. A girl who could have been my carbon copy came knocking on my door saying she came for me—you're that girl, aren't you?"

Jocasta blinked. This woman was smart. Let her take a note of that. Alyssa Griffiths wasn't the backwater bumpkin Jocasta painted her to be. "Would you believe I am your daughter, then?" she said. "That, after all these years, I lived and eventually found out about you?"

"I am quite easy to find, and I have always been in this place," Alyssa said. "But I didn't count on my child tracing it all back to me."

Jocasta chewed on her lip. Alyssa's gaze was unrelenting, as if the woman spent most of her life dissecting people's souls as she talked to them. "And that doesn't concern you?" she asked. "Are you not curious about what happened to me in between then and now?"

Alyssa scoffed. "Those Kevlars did me a solid by taking the responsibility for you," she said. "I don't want to know where they took you and what happened to you. I signed away that right all those years ago. And now...you're back. What do you want?"

The words stung. What do you want? It was like Alyssa was just aiming to get to the end of this so she could go on her merry way. Jocasta shouldn't have gone here. Markel was wrong. Their families weren't alive. These people didn't deserve that title from her. Had the others arrived at the same thing?

She wanted to get angry, wanted to scream and throw and punch things, but what would that accomplish? It wasn't going to make this woman want to welcome her with open arms. From the way she answered when she saw Jocasta, she was unimpressed. She realized she was Jocasta's mother, and yet, she had the nerve to spout those things as if she weren't. What did that word mean, anyway? Mother. It was nothing but a relic.

"Nothing," Jocasta said. "Just the reason why you had to do that. Sign me away, that is."

Alyssa sighed. "I had you when I was young. Too young, in fact," she said. "I wasn't ready to take responsibility, and neither did your father. He requested his name to never make it out of my mouth, and his connection to you never be made public anywhere else. I had the choice to stop my life and focus on raising you, or continue on chasing my dreams and let you go. It may be selfish, but it was an easy choice."

"Easy? You abandoned a child without even asking what those soldiers were going to do to me," Jocasta seethed. She was losing her cool, and it wasn't good. "You're despicable."

The woman hummed, not contradicting Jocasta's accusation. She was well aware, and she stood by it. Was proud of it, even. "I'm doing the world a good service," she replied. "Those 'soldiers' told me they will aid you to change the world. What right do I have to keep you from that potential? I'm a village girl with barely a pound in my purse. What do you expect me to do, at your age?"

Jocasta blinked. She didn't realize that. Perhaps, she was a bit harsh. Still, it stood. This woman abandoned her as a child. She had no place in Jocasta's life then. She certainly has none now. That was it. She'd have to pressure Markel to watch a regency era drama just to pacify her for all the troubles he sent her to.

"Thanks for the tea," Jocasta said, shooting up from her chair and striding towards the foyer. On her way out, she slid her cap off her hair. Her hair tumbled in luscious waves as she made them grow while they talked. She didn't bother hiding her smirk when watching Alyssa's reaction in her periphery. The woman's eyes never left Jocasta's back even after she shut the door shut behind her and peeled into the pavement. Because the strands weren't as dark as midnight like hers. They were white as snow.

Jocasta would never be like her mother, and she'd make sure of that.