She tracks them down, when she gets the chance.

"Mother, I'm sorry Mother-"

She will sit them down, facing them - not on her knee, though, they are separate from her now. It starts with the talk: You are Free, children, Free to make your own choices; how much will you pay me to find your loose Geasa?

"Mother, I-"

I know, child, she will tell them, something almost smug (resigned? Pleased?) in her voice. Just because you left Mother doesn't mean you don't love her.

"...I..."

You've got yourself into a bind, child, Daughter. One cannot return to the womb, to the garden of birth. You try to become a heavenly child, but we don't belong in heaven. We are human and demon, belonging anywhere but paradise. And yet if you attempt to return home to Hell, you will suffer. Once a child's left their mother, it's impossible to return.

"...Mother, you can still come to Heaven, please, come home..." The Daughter has tried to climb into her lap and she is removed, almost gently. "Mother, come home!"

Not my home. Not my freedom. No freedom for me there. I had free will and I made my choice. I am human and older than you can imagine, child. You are unlearned, young, act without thinking. You made your choice and you're stuck, Daughter. You left, and I will not help you! As heaven did not help her.

"Mother, I love you!"

Love's not enough. Love can never be enough. You left. That is your choice. And certainly, just because you left Mother doesn't mean you don't love her. Now go. You have no value. I will not track down your loose Geasa. Go to where you choose.

"Mother-"

Go, Not-Child. Return to your innocence. The womb is closed to you.