Aria did not like full moons. They made her think about him and his betrayal towards their family. To be a known werewolf was one thing, but it was forgivable; divorcing her mother and altogether abandoning their family was not. While her Papa's natal family had altogether ceased to speak of him, they'd fortunately spared his children—Aria included—from the same fate. Thus, she sat in the parlor of her grandparents' home, her Aunt Begonia at her side, while she (unsuccessfully) attempted to embroider a crescent moon into her handkerchief.

She stopped about halfway through to spill the story she'd been burying for the last three days, and much to her relief, Aunt Begonia didn't seem upset—at least not with her.

"Yes, and this - this hot-headed, pig-faced dunce assaulted me in his oh-so-heroic attempt to save me! Grabbed me by the wrist and everything!" she huffed, slouching back in her chair.

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