*tries to recall her father's exact words among the murky haze of simple hurt pounding in her brain*
*remembers something about Lúthien and Beren and oh, why didn't she read those parts more closely before she talked to you? *but then she was just skimming for her father's name and even the passages where his name and Lúthien's appeared together seemed so unimportant until his travels took him somewhere that struck a chord in her mind (Doriath)* *wishes she'd listened better, too, when she visited Gondolin as a smaller girl and her cousin spun a bedtime story for her—something about little Eärendil and the granddaughter of beautiful Lúthien, something more suited to Faerie than to the real world*
*sniffles and chokes down a not-quite-soundless sob* I don't...I told him w-who your granddad is and— (I'm sorry)(I didn't know) *climbs down from her bed and walks over to the doors leading out onto her balcony, stepping out into the unseasonable warmth in bare feet, forcing herself to think, to make some sense of this as twilight begins to fall* Is...is your mom Lúthien?