Litotes, anyone - birthing;

[litotes]

litotes

The feeling of his newborn daughter against his locked legs brings a smile to his face. Litotes peers down at her with glimmering gemstone eyes, longing to press his mouth to her mane - but remembers the lesson he has learned raising daughters (especially Isilme); instead, his smile remains like a flickering ghost, translucent and near-weak. I love you, he thinks, knowing how fiercely that is true.

She is like a little bird, so sweet and brilliant in her tiny joy.

“Altissima,” the cremello parrots, dragging his eyes back to Valdis. “It . . . it suits her.” It does, and he means it, especially as he speaks her name into existence and ties it around his heart.

Valdis’ jest loosens the death-grip on Lie’s chest, and he nibbles at the curve of her jaw, sad smile turning those somber lips of his into something sweet. She is unique and perfect in her way, and the Archon will not have her any other way. “I can’t say I am much of a prisoner-taker; but Valdis, you would be different even if I was.” He means this, too, even knowing that she has her life outside of the odd bubble they have created (so much like every other woman in his life) - even knowing that the soft curve of his heart he keeps her in will callous when she leaves.

She has something about her that demands his affection, and Litotes has always been a sucker for secretly powerful women.

The moment pops when Valdis steps away, but Lie’s smile remains.

“Yes, so incredibly proud.” Proud of both of them.

i don't want your pity, i just want somebody near me
guess i'm a coward, i just want to feel all right

@[Altissima] @[Valdis] valdis always gettin mr softy soft lie