The morning was dark and stormy, and the dove had watched as the winter storms swirled overhead, pushing into the mainland from the sea. They had come with a torrent of rainwater, the most that the desert landscape would probably see all year. Rarely did snow fall on these golden sands, kept away by the dry, hot climate. Tonight, temperatures would drop, plunging to depths that she did not know how to describe; but for now, during the day, the temperatures were stable above the freezing point. There would be no snow today, only a frigid, chilling rain.

Astraeus huddled miserably on her withers as she stood beneath the trees of the oasis. The greenery offered little shelter, as sparse as the leaves were, but it was better than nothing. The twins had been nearby for most of the morning, but as the sky began to lighten and the rain began to slow, she allowed that they might go to play. Her instincts told her that the clouds would remain, but the rains would depart, and they were old enough now to roam where they pleased within the Throat, so long as they told her where they were going.

The wakiya did not move when the children did, as cold and wet as he was; it would take him some time to thaw and dry, and he would not attempt a flight until that time came. Instead, as the angel moved from beneath the trees to sip quietly at the reservoir before her, he clung all the tighter to her. She barely felt the bite of his talons, by now used to their pinch. She offered a murmur of sympathy before striding lazily along the shoreline.

Some instinct - perhaps a mothering knowledge - brought her to the cliffs, and as her eyes set upon her son, she was suddenly sure that something was amiss. He stood alone, staring out over the waves, seeming lost in thought. His owl perched upon his back much like her zephyr sat upon hers, and the pair struck her as entirely too lonely. She approached silently, coming to a halt beside the boy and casting her own gaze out to sea.

The storms raged fiercely over the open water. "Do you know why storms are more dangerous out at sea?" she asked her son, motherly love in her voice. Perhaps he was merely entranced with the storms; but if there was something bothering him, she wasn't going to force him into talking about it. She was here. That was what mattered, right?

"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.

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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

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Astraeus again offered the low, crooning note generally reserved only for the young of his own kind; it is an instinctual, soothing sound, at once beautiful and melancholy, gliding through the air between the zephyr and the boy, dancing into the auds of both the prince and his mother. It is a plea and a consolation, a promise and a request. It is a sound that had calmed the dove more than once, and she hoped that it would offer Hawke the same condolences.

His words were a knife in her heart, guilt blooming as she realized that she was the source of his pain. He was different, had always been different, taking more after her and her magic than Gaucho's fire. Where Gaucho was light and fire and brilliance, she was death and coldness and crystal. "Oh, shekhikhi... You aren't evil, you aren't mel. Yer erin." She paused, watching him as he struck a stone over and over again, his hoof almost dwarfed by it. Still, he soldiered on, pressing his pain into the rock, refusing to allow it to best him.

After a moment, the angel followed him, settling her wing across his back. "Hazi negwin vo zisat yer," she told him. "That stone has done nothing to hurt you." No, indeed - the rock had done nothing to him. She, on the other hand, had left him to carry the weight of her legacy, the only one of her offspring in whom her magic bloomed more brightly than her mate's. She had hurt him, and though it had been indirectly and accidentally, it smarted all the same.

"Did you know that I can speak with the souls of the dead? Drivat oakah?"

"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
- mel | evil, bad
- Yer erin. | You are good/kind.
- Hazi negwin vo zisat yer. | That stone did not hurt you.
- drivat oakah | dead souls

subtlepatterns.com | foxyfirewings & larfsalot @ deviantart.com