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09-09-2014, 10:24 PM
The dove was no stranger to birth, nor to death; but this struggle placing her firstborn son somewhere in between left her anxious. She had seen death come too soon for her parents, her siblings, her eldest daughter - but never had she watched them struggle, as though they were trying to decide if it was even worth it anymore. You haven't even lived yet, she thought with dismay, nickering deep in her throat with encouragement. "Leshitat," she whispered, nudging against Rhoa's tiny ribs again. "Thirat." And so the Transcended waited, praying for her healer to arrive before it was too late.
It was strange, the way she slipped in and out of her native tongue, picking and choosing whichever word came to her most quickly. The angel was a quick learner, and though she could not quite hold a conversation or form sentences in her lover's language, she found individual words to be a pleasure to learn and utilize. Particularly when he was around. Perhaps she merely wished to impress Gaucho, or perhaps she subconsciously wanted their sons to know his language; but either way, it was his language in which she begged her son to breathe, to live, to grow, to be strong.
When Andromeda arrived, she smiled tiredly, swaying slightly on her feet. In previous births, her children had struggled to their feet, had their first meal, and fallen into a weary slumber alongside her by now, and she was beginning to feel the effects of her exhaustion. Gaucho spoke before she could gather herself, and so she merely added to his demand a politeness and an identification: "Please. The darker one."
"Talk talk talk."
@[Rhoa]
Translations ::
leshitat | breathe
thirat | live
Astraeus.
you give up your soul till you break down;
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