sing songs that remind you of the good times [samael]
It took a moment for the titanic male to emerge from his den, a little ways from the cavern. It had been rather kind of him to give her and the children space, especially since the two of them had been casual lovers at most. Mercury gaze would flit over his bedraggled form as he sauntered closer, beaming with glee. Dominika had left her in the night to cuddle up with him, which had been the source of only slight sorrow. Did her daughter not see her as trustworthy?
He sat with a whump beside her. "Good morning, how can I help you this morning?" The cheer was tangible in his sonorous vocals. She hummed kindly, casting a warm smile his way. The mood was quick to turn sullen, as she remembered why she called him to her. "I'll be leaving this morning," She said softly, gaze narrowing at the sea. "sweet Divo is blessed of Svarog, and I need to bring a shaman to teach her the ways of the holy ones. I will be away until summer, if I'm not mistaken." It hurt to leave her children, just as her parents had abandoned her. Her mother had disappeared. Distant relatives had made note of postpartum depression, rampant in her genes. To her father, no one was certain why he had abandoned them.
Blinking away tears that welled in her eyes, she looked to the sire of her blessed children. "I ask that you take good care of them in my absence, Mr. Morningstar. Please?" Her voice became rough, accent almost too thick to understand. Choking on emotion was so rare for her, even now. "Take them to Abaven, should illness take them. Miss Sparrow is the leader, and she checked on me during my pregnancy. Don't let them wander for long, they should be coming back each night." Gods above, she was rambling like an old fool. A soft chuckle came out a little too much like a sob.
"I have already informed them of my intentions, and said my goodbyes." She promised, scenting the air. It was getting warmer, and the sooner she left, the further out she could get before the sun set. Travelling north at night, even in the spring, was foolish at best.
"speech" |
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