The 8th Noble
Colette's lips thinned until her dimples curled themselves over into a frown. There was nothing wrong with calling someone a mother, at least not unless that person was Colette Noble. The sting of abandonment wasn't as sharp as it had been when she was a child but it had still hollowed out some small part of her mind where 'nurture' should have been.
"No, I guess not." She grumbled. "Or, at least it shouldn't be."
Colette paused, looked around the room for a moment before letting out a deep sigh.
"I was abandoned, left to die as an infant." She kept from rolling her eyes. The words felt so empty, pointless, unremarkable. "I've seen what mothers are, but I never felt it — at least not until I was old enough to get by on my own."
"It's hard to not feel like it's an insult to call Valery mother. She never abandoned me, she never left me to die. I got close once, and even then she was right there when I woke up in the hospital. Like something I've been told a mother should have been."
"But she's nothing like my parents. I don't want to put that on her."