Leera nods, agreeing wholeheartedly with Nephthys words about love. The wolfess likes to believe she's above that sort of thing, feelings, but she also knows that even an icehearted creature like herself can't escape such horror. At least, she couldn't for her children. They are the only thing she's ever truly, undoubtedly loved. And now they are gone.
She watches her companion steadily, noting everything from the weight of her voice to her downturned lashes to the slight swelling in her belly. Eating well, she dismisses, but now that she examines it there's a slight shift in the smell of the air. A change in energy, in aura. Nephthys begins her story, and while Leera listens hard to it, nodding along, she's also watching the woman's abdomen. It is larger. Rounder. Even if only by slightly.
Ears lower against her head as she learns about the God who abandoned his litter, their mother forced to look after and provide for the children herself. She gives a small shake of her head, frowning gently, when Nephthys continues to tell about the mother's death and the children's hard, gruesome choice. It all seems to be getting to Nephthys, Leera notices, and she attempts to soothe the other woman by pressing her shoulder into her side.
But there's a crack in her voice and suddenly Nephthys sits up, voice shrill and heartbreaking and despserate all at once. "You won't end up like her," she tries to coax her back to reality, speaking in a hushed tone. It's strange; it's almost as though Leera feels sympathy for her companion. But as Nephthys sits up now, raised on her haunches, it's clear to see what she's been referring to. Leera glances down, swallows once, and puts a paw on her Nephthys'. "You are with child, flower. Is this what plagues you so?" She wants to say more, but she feels maybe it's smarter to let Nephthys explain to her what's going on.
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