[hr][hr][center][color=a187be][h1][img]http://fontmeme.com/embed.php?text=Tatiana%20Carrington&name=Arizonia-Regular.ttf&size=100&style_color=a187be[/img][/h1][/color][/center][hr][hr]

	Tatiana could feel her face beginning to burn; each word that slipped off Cassiopeia’s tongue driving the temperature of rage to gain a degree. The only good thing so far was how Samanthas friend responded, Tatiana wanted to high five the woman. Sure Sam was a handful, but she didn't deserve that. Hell, in Tati's eyes Sam probably wouldn't be the way she was if it wasn't for the way Cassiopeia acted towards her own children. 

	Tatiana narrowed her eyes slightly; if looks could kill her adopted mother would be laying there on the ground gasping for final breaths from the daggers that shot from the ballerinas cold gaze, one that seemed to reflect the very look she had seen her [i]mother[/i] shoot many an unsuspecting victims in the past. It seemed that Tatiana had learned the glacier gaze well if nothing else. 

	She found herself biting down on her tongue, trying not to quip a heartless retort back at Cassiopeia; the only thought that kept her from doing so was the thought that perhaps Cass or Reginald might be ill and at the end of their days. She wanted, above all else, for this trip to go as smoothly as possible; it seemed that, to her, Cassiopeia didn’t care if she drove her children right off the plane, across the tarmac and back into world away from the [i]loving[/i] words of their parents. If that was Cassiopeia’s intentions she would be sadly disappointed, Tatiana was determined to see this through if it killed her. Right then she felt like it just might do that.

	Taking a deep breath she turned towards Wyatt, pursing her lips hard; her lips thinning and going nearly white under the pressure. Each greeting just made Tatiana that much more angry; she could actually taste the blood in her mouth at this point from her teeth grinding down on her tongue. As she laid into Marisol, Tatiana had had enough and spun around on her heels.

	Seeing Rowan, Tatiana visibly froze. This was just what she needed, the mother pleaser in the group. As per usual Cassiopeia was no kinder to Rowan than anyone else. It seemed that the only one to escape the woman's seeming hatred was the one carrying the next generation. Tatiana had to wonder if all the girls showed up pregnant if it would melt the ice queens heart. She doubted it. 

	Tatiana nearly held her tongue but she couldn't. Not this time, not for Rowans sake, not for Livs, not for her father. Tatiana had had enough already. Why bring them all together if they were only going to be berated as they stepped on the plane? That same childhood glare coming to her features and her speech dripped like acid as each word eloquently and with perfect dictation rolled over her tongue and left her lips.

	“I only hold you in as such high regards and with as much adoration and compassion as you do I, Mother,” Tatiana spat harshly towards Cassiopeia as she was led to a seat, her voice rising up to ensure she was heard. “I could always sink lower, I could become you,” she added without remorse before turning her back to Cassiopeia. Taking a shaky breath she looked over towards Wyatt, keeping her face hidden from her mother and father as the tears threatened to wash down her cheeks. 

	"If hate begets hate, then I was raised to be nothing but a raging inferno of hell thanks to that voman," Tatiana whispered before grabbing her purse, pushing past the rest, and walking into the lavatory; slamming the door hard behind her and locking it. Tatiana slow sunk to the floor, dropping her bag next to her; her knees coming to her chest as her arms wrapped around them and her head fell forward. That woman always knew how to push Tatiana’s buttons; sadly Tatiana had never learned how to turn her reactions off.  She was convinced that her adopted mother enjoyed seeing her get like this.

	[i]”Long deep breaths,”[/i] Tatiana kept telling herself. That woman was not going to squeeze one more tear from her she promised herself. She would not give her the satisfaction; not now, not ever again. Tilting her head back she gazed up at the ceiling, cursing when she saw the smoke detector and suddenly realizing that this was going to an eight hour plus trip that would include no smoking.  [i]”Fucking great,”[/i] she thought to herself as she slowly stood up and looked at herself in the mirror. 

	“Vhat am I doing here?” she whispered to herself. Tatiana knew they were looking for an heir and she knew that they would never even consider her for such a task; even if they had she wouldn’t have taken it. She never wanted such a life and though her life was far from perfect she had been happy these last years. She loved the life she had. She was free to pursue what she loved and still make a bit of coin in the process. Sure her life was anything but easy, money always played a part, that didn’t bother her. Each dollar she made was hers, she earned it. Why couldn’t they be proud of that? Wasn’t a parents goal in life just to be that their children were happy? 

	Sighing she looked away from her own reflection and took another deep breath, she was still trembling but at least she had not thrown anything; yet. The day was still early and locked away in this flying mortuary was not going to make things any easier. She just wondered if she would be the first to actually chuck a pint sized bottle of booze at her mother’s head or if say Samantha or Marisol would beat her to it. Tatiana felt like kicking herself to ever believe that this trip was going to mend anything from the past and that she could finally come clean about what she really had been up to over the years.  

	Reaching down she picked up her purse and set it on the vanity, opening it up and pulling out the small envelope that she had tucked away. Opening it carefully she moved its contents and ran her fingers over the image on the front before shaking her head and shoving it back away; out of sight but hardly out of mind. She felt like a fool. What was she thinking to bring it with her? They weren’t proud of her as a child, they weren’t proud of her now; what made her think if she showed them anything that their opinion would change? She knew it wouldn’t. She could become the Premiere Prima of the Russian Ballet and they would think the same of her if she was selling herself on a street corner for a hit of heroine. It mattered not. She was a publicity stunt, she wasn't a true Carrington. In their eyes, especially in Casseopeia's, she never would be.

	Zipping her purse closed she unlocked the door and stepped back out, not bothering to look at a single person as she walked by the flight attendants cart and snatching a handful of small bottles before slumping back into her seat. If she couldn’t smoke or throw things, she could at least drink herself into oblivion. The hang over would be a welcome price to pay to escape this level of purgatory for the time being.