Elena's voice lost whatever remained of its control.
"WHAT KIND OF NONSENSE IS THIS?! WHAT ARE YOU DOING TO MY MOTHER?! STOP—"
"Stop?"
Viktor's voice. Even. Unhurried. His hips moving again — the slow, deliberate, I decide the pace movement of a man who has decided that Elena's volume is not a factor in his decision-making.
The sound of it.
Gluck.
Eliantra's eyes.
Looking at the mirror. At Elena looking at her. The unbearable eye contact of a mother and daughter across an impossible distance — the mother's eyes wet, overwhelmed, carrying the comprehensive shame of a woman being seen in a way she cannot control and cannot stop.
She made a sound.
"Mmmpphh~—"
Not trying to speak. Just — sound. The compressed, everything-at-once sound of a woman who is gagging and crying and feeling something she refuses to name and is managing all of it in the limited space available to a throat with an occupation.
Elena took a step toward the mirror.
"If you don't STOP—"
