Nemesis reached over the babe's shell, her breath stirring against the cheek of the rhino turtle, the salt a lingering aftertaste on her inhale even before Hestia spoke. Tears, not just her own, were pungent in the air-- and they broke the mother's heart. Hestia's cheek met her own and for a long moment, there they were, making a warm contact that Nemesis had missed oh so dearly. Her sweet, precious Hestia. The hearth in her home, the source of light and joy and love that filled her world.

The words escaped the reborn child, broken notes cracking with a heart-wrenching apology. Nemesis was shushing Hestia immediately, a loving, nurturing hum of a, "shhhh, shhhhhh," to her precious, living, alive, surviving child. Her throat was thick with a lump that she couldn't swallow, but despite the pain searing across her emotional state, she managed a weak but true smile.

"Shhh, no, shhhh, Hestia. My baby, you're so strong. You have no idea... You came back, and that's all that matters, Hestia," the mother's own words were shaky, but overflowing with relief. She had been so sure that her child had been lost forever, but it turned out that indeed, Hestia was as strong as her mother. She had done the impossible, come back from the dead. How she had died... Well, that, Nemesis didn't know. If she had the emotional capacity to spare, she might have found vengeance and asked what had happened-- but as it was, for now... There was nothing Nemesis could do but weep and smile and coo to her precious little fire.

Magdalena's voice whispered through the air, a murmur on the gentle wind, and Nemesis pulled away from her child to give her midnight stare to the blind borzoi. "My Princess, our little fire... Come, come see," she encouraged warmly, too overwhelmed to care for the poor choice of words. She wanted Magdalena to approach, to touch and feel the warmth that had returned to their lives.

The next sentence was as much for her own sake as anyone else's in that moment,

"Everything's alright now."