genevieve doesn't answer right away. heavy silence overtakes her for a moment, lavender eyes drifting to the side — not in avoidance, but in calculation. like she’s weighing how much truth the moment can carry without snapping under it. then, with a faint, bitter curl of her lip, she says, 'ma famille,' her voice sharpens, but never rises. 'they did not need to say them out loud. they simply . . . made sure i knew what should be feared. what should be silenced. what should be burned out of myself before it rooted too deeply within me,' her gaze flicks to romeo then, mostly steady. 'i learned to survive by following their rules. even when they felt poisoned,' a pause. then, with something quieter, something like mourning in the hollow of her throat, 'unfortunately, the poison sometimes stays. their words often echo within my mind. and as much as i try to silence them, they are . . . très fort, even still,' @savieur.