It is that moment in with her cries for Father split the air that I am given to believe that even for a moment, a single moment, that age is given to simply melt away, her form thrown against my own in a manner so childlike that it seems as if ten years or so are given to drift away in that single embrace. Maybe I am a little nostalgic and yet memories truly are the only things to be left when all else decides to fade. For a moment I feel like the King I was again, holding my child and heiress to my chest as she snuggles against my side as only a daughter truly can and I am given to simply feel the perfect perfection that is being….needed. I had never desired children, never sort to breed more than the single heir I had needed and yet winter after winter Zeivah had given birth and each one drew a smile from my lips. For so long I have watched over them, taking pride in every daughter and son, watching my own legacy grow. For when I am gone it is they, my children and grandchildren and great grandchildren that will remember me, that will embody me and all that I am and was. They are me and to have a child returned is like having a piece of myself restored. I am not an emotional creature, it is simply not my way, words of love and kindness rare from my lips and yet I believe they know- I do not need words to tell my children how I feel. I have guarded them all there lives and will guard them from the next if I have my way. I have missed my child and perhaps, even if my eyes are a little clouded….I still see the girl I held in my paws when she was merely hours old. My Calista will always be my Baby Girl.

Her words extract a momentary chuckle from myself, a deep rumble within my chest as I moved to step back from her at last, violet eyes resting against her own, my child of pure and splendid white, unmarked in anyway- just as myself. A child truly born in my image. Calista. The most beautiful.

“When it is I think of another word I shall inform you.”

It was little more then a tease, jaws parting to brush my tongue in a stolen kiss upon her muzzle in a brief moment of tender appreciation and love for my child before my muzzle returned to myself once more and I moved to seat myself before her on old and protesting limbs. Thank heavens for the spring warmth once more.

“Our family is well. Isola is mother to eleven in total now, some now live within Taviora, Spirane and Glorall. Azrael and his children still reside within Diveen and your nephew, Achilles, son of Isola has born his first litter last spring, from Vega. Isola is a grandmother now and you a Great Aunt.”

I smiled easily at the thought, knowing well Isola had not contented herself with the name ‘grandmother’ just yet, feeling surely too young for such a thing and yet I felt it quite becoming on her. Besides, if I am a great grandfather then Isola I am assured can handle a single title.

“I know your siblings will be pleased to see you. Isola has missed you, Azrael asks after you still as did Ashido before he travelled on. You will be staying now?”

One eye lifted in momentary curiosity. I could hardly force my daughter to remain within Diveen, she was far to old to be picked up and dragged like a disobedient pup and yet the thought of her leaving once more was displeasing. I liked….having her here, I liked my children, my family- where I could see them and I was unwilling to go back to wondering at her welfare. The scent of another upon the air so my head incline suddenly towards Ambrosia as she moved to approach my ears having not…..quite heard her bark and yet I moved to allow her muzzle to sweep my own in the touch of our kind, pleased at the respect and manners this child bore. Surprising really, given Azrael tends to be rather exceptional a destroying anything he touches. Ambrosia however, has always been an exception, much as her brother Guardian and sister Celeste- useful products of an otherwise useless son. I love my son, to be sure and yet Azrael is, well, tiresome at the best of times, the girl perhaps fortunately taking after her Mother having evidently been bred with sense. Where Azrael’s hysteria comes from I hardly know. Overemotional creature that he is. What? It sure as hell didn’t come from me. The latina that rolls from her tongue is a pleasing thing, my head dipped slightly in further greeting, permitting the girl to come forward and sit amongst us now as she moved to offer her introductions.

“Neptis ambrosia, id Calista materterae, sororis Azrael et de Insula, filia mea, Calista.”
(Granddaughter Ambrosia, this is your Aunt, sister of Azrael and Isola, my daughter, Calista.)

I paused once more, allowing daughter and granddaughter to acquaint themselves, a passing smile given to touch my features faintly at some passing memory, wondering indeed if Zeivah too would take pleasure in this day, of having so much family- before I pushed the thoughts away and into the back of my mind where such things belonged, eyes turned to my daughter once more.

“Quid Calista filiorum tuorum? Audisti quid ipsae?”
(What of your children Calista? Have you heard anything of them?)

My head moved to incline in that moment, tilting ever so slightly in curiosity before my muzzle reached to slide gently against Ambrosia's ear, words muttered softly and for my granddaughter alone.

"Tobias dicemus post modicum columbam, et non audierunt, non puto."
(We will speak of Tobias later, Little Dove, do not think I haven't heard.)

I may be old and perhaps a little deaf...but I hear enough, the faintest hint of a grin touching my features and yes, I did have a little something to say on that matter. I lost a daughter to Tobias years ago- I will not lose a granddaughter too.



h e y e l
The Original Angel