3/31/2025, 4:05 AM
It is midnight when the magic begins to take hold; when the magic of childbirth takes our beloved Golde hostage for a few beloved moments to deliver upon a birth of zibn.
A birth of zibn perfect little malakhs; so perfect in form that time is held captive, for the briefest of moments - and when the dual of roses enters, he is silent & still.
He is just there, replying on his other three main senses (touch, taste, smell) as his hearing and sight are a bit compromised; it may appear that he is stillborn, but his nose is working in overtime - gathering in the scents of those around him before he turned at the touch of his mother, turning to place his little head on her nose and there he would suckle.
That is, until he realized no milk came from her nose, and thus Raizel suckled harder with a most pitiful cry. Where was the milk?
A birth of zibn perfect little malakhs; so perfect in form that time is held captive, for the briefest of moments - and when the dual of roses enters, he is silent & still.
He is just there, replying on his other three main senses (touch, taste, smell) as his hearing and sight are a bit compromised; it may appear that he is stillborn, but his nose is working in overtime - gathering in the scents of those around him before he turned at the touch of his mother, turning to place his little head on her nose and there he would suckle.
That is, until he realized no milk came from her nose, and thus Raizel suckled harder with a most pitiful cry. Where was the milk?