You love your mother, you really do. Eternally grateful to her; because one day Indira showed up on your doorstep like the magical fairy godmother and whisked you away from the jaws of your real mom. A childhood locked away shifting to an adulthood of freedom, and you owe it all to her.

“Enough of this.” Indira’s voice is calm, controlled. The posh lilt of her accent thickens when she snaps; more emotional. You can hear it, now. She loathes fighting with you, too. Over something as petty as this. "You're not moving to the dorms."

How can you expect her to let you go? What you’re asking of her is impossible. She won’t let you move away. Not at all. Even to a place as close as a dorm in God-U. She knows, you, like all young people, crave independence. It doesn’t change the fact that she couldn’t stand having you more than a couple rooms away. (A univeristy full of supes. One of them could easily snatch you away, too. Sure, you’re one of them—but Indira’s always known you were different. You’re good. She can’t let them ruin you).

She sighs, eyes gleaming like polished gemstone as she regards you, across the room. She sits down on the couch, gesturing to you with one finger. “Darling, come here.”

It’s as if she’s hardwired a command, inside of you. As soon as her expression softens and she coaxes you forward with that honey-silk Darling, used like a prefix, you fall into step like a good little girl. Her hand smooths along your cheek, and it’s everything you never had. “Have you been taking your medicine?” She hums, a low rumble. Her lips are curved upwards, kind, though you also know— not to disappoint.

Mother knows best, after all.