it's in my roots, in my veins - any

[Texas]

Never made it as a wise man. I couldn't cut it as a poor man stealing

I’m tired of living like a blind man. I'm sick of sight without a sense of feeling

The flurry of expressions that fly across her face are not a good sign. Mares feeling so many emotions in his presence almost always results in a kick to the head, and Texas would rather avoid that. She manages to speak after sputtering for a few seconds, and Texas isn’t able to stop himself from taking a few steps back in preparation for whatever it is the Ygritte has to say. His self-preservation instinct is, as always, quite reliable.

“I guess I assumed you knew?” He replies, clearly unsure even as he says it. “I thought your mother would have told you.” It’s a mother’s job to dothat sort of telling, isn’t it? It’s obviously not a father’s.

She asks about siblings then – of course she does.

Texas is not possessed of an excellent memory, and even if he were, he’s not at all the type of follow up with mares to see if their frolicking had resulted in offspring. “Nativity and I have…three? Four?” He’s clearly unsure, but he’s seen at least two of them, and knows there are more. Yrgitte’s resemblance to Alona is what caused him to recognize her as his daughter in the first place. “I’m not sure how many half siblings you have. Two dozen? Three?” Most of them are his, of course, but Nativity is equally immortal – who knows what she’s been up to in the years they spent apart.

texas