The Sword was well versed in striving to assist and help, but his measures were in support and support alone. He had no power to mend or heal, and the unicorn at his side was the only capacity near him in those regards – so he nodded, presiding and providing relief where he could. His hand squeezed hers in gentleness, in grounding, anchoring measures, face flickering between pride at her abilities, and along the faces of the nurses and medical staff at large, gauging information through nuances as well as shared wisdom.
He bent down, mouth near her crown as the contractions seemed unending and the pushing began, low murmurs in her ear for her and her alone. “You are so strong,” because it was true, and would be for eternities, no matter the situation. If he could give her any wave of strength, fortitude, and might, he would – some manner of salvation and semblance through these chords of life and growth.
He bent down, mouth near her crown as the contractions seemed unending and the pushing began, low murmurs in her ear for her and her alone. “You are so strong,” because it was true, and would be for eternities, no matter the situation. If he could give her any wave of strength, fortitude, and might, he would – some manner of salvation and semblance through these chords of life and growth.
deimos
Never let them drain the river of your soul
