Rysha had just arrived home from her last dance class of the day. Tryst was upstairs presumably, playing with Emmet maybe. Rysha didn't hear Riley, so maybe he was napping. Letting those thoughts float out of her head for a moment, she dropped her duffel bag on the kitchen counter before noticing the little pile of mail on the dinner table. It had already been sorted through, so presumably Riley had already pulled his own things out of the stack.
After reading the more important letter(They were mostly junk mail, surveys, magazines pleading for subscriptions, etc.), which was a letter from D-Corp concerning Tryst. Such baloney... Choosing to participate, right. Not that Rysha
minded that much anymore, Tryst was like a daughter now. Well, okay, so she was more then "like" a daughter, she WAS a daughter. Despite the weird start to the relationship, she wouldn't give up Tryst at this point. Emmet, too. Both were darling children.
"Tryst! Sweetie, could you come down here for a sec?" Rysha shouted from the kitchen, maybe not setting the best example for the kiddos, but eh. They'd learn.
Her call was answered by a soft
shfff shfff, the sliding of scales down the carpeted staircase, as Tryst carefully slid down them, her hands on the railing for support. Poor kid. She and staircases just didn't really agree.
"Hey sweets, there's a letter here for you to fill out from D-corp." She said, handing the paper to the little snake child.
Tryst slid to the kitchen table, sitting in a chair and letting her tail wrap around one of the legs. It took her a minute or two to read it, the main letter being of not much interest to her. Too many big words.
"Mama, can I use the purple pen? Can I? Can I?" She asked, bouncing slightly in the chair, her hair falling over her shoulder in a light wave. Smiling, Rysha passed her a purple ball point pen from one of the miscellaneous drawers in the kitchen.
"Sure."
Tryst quieted as she wrote, trying to be careful and neat(As much as a toddler could be.) Her name she knew, obviously. "Rysha, how old am I?" She asked, glancing up at her mother."
"Five. I think."
It wasn't that hard answering the questions, but the last one required drawing. Tryst wasn't that good at drawing... There wasn't a mirror in the kitchen, but the window over the sink worked well enough since it was nighttime and dark out. Her little forked tongue peeked out of her mouth as she concentrated on a recognizable picture.
While Tryst was filling out her form, Rysha was writing the accompanying letter to go with it. Tryst finished first, clacking her pen down on the table. "Done, mama."
"Good, thanks sweetie. Now go on up to bed, alright? Sleep tight." Rysha said with a smile, giving Tryst a pat to the backside to urge her backupstairs. She watched her for a moment before turning back to her own letter...
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