Her son glanced up at her words, his eyes aching and full of need. The dove's heart went out to the boy, so young, so innocent, clearly in some kind of pain, struggling with some problem that he now turned to his mother to solve for him. Something shifted in his eyes, some silent threat of tears, and the youngling moved into her loving grasp, where she lowered her maw to try and gently pull him against her. She spread her wings, wrapping them forward, as though to shield the prince from the world outside. Astraeus crooned some soothing, quiet melody, as though offering his own support.
"When the clouds come over land, the world below acts as a barrier of sorts, breaking up the worst of the storm. But out at sea, there is nothing to calm the beast. The warm waters of our ocean feed it and strengthen it, giving us these brilliant displays..." She paused, collecting her thoughts. "Sometimes," she continued carefully, "something that thrives in one place fails in another. Sometimes, something just needs a little time to grow into something magnificent. Look." She urged the boy to lift his eyes, just in time to see a brilliant display of lightning.
He struggled with words, and her heart struggled with him, her soul aching for words to soothe his pain. She wondered, then, about her son's struggles; about his fears and insecurities. He was different from her other offspring, who, more often than not, took after their father's light. But Hawke, like his mother, was shrouded in a different, darker kind of magic. "Different? Not like everyone else?" she queried, supplying the word he could not find. "Everyone is different in their own way, shekhikhi. You are only more visibly different than the rest."
"Talk talk talk."
Astraeus.
Tag :: @[Hawke]
Setting :: In the Dragon's Throat, on the cliffs watching the storms brewing out at sea; daytime.
Notes :: Wearing crystallized rose necklace.
Translations ::
- shekhikhi | light