Moonspear southern gothic

Hydra listened, and could not help the feeling of impatience that was beginning to bloom within her. She was not made for this sort of work, and was beginning to feel as though Yama was simply asking to feel this way by continued to refuse her words... or ignore them. She was not a woman who understood the workings of mental health, and she was half-inclined to agree with Yama. Indeed they did; and they could likely articulate better to her what was the matter than her own sister could, who was wise enough to know better. So Hydra had thought, anyway. 

For now, though, Hydra would try once more. Only her family was offered the full extent of her willingness to be patient, even when irritation was beginning to mount. Yama, Hydra murmured, you can need me, too. There was nothing wrong with this, not when Yama never had before. Hydra paused, considering, before she said: soon, my babies will need you as well. You are their aunt. I do not think they would like to see you hurting, either, hoping beyond hope that this might bring her to, for once, think of a pleasant future rather than holding on to the painful past. 

Hydra could not address her fears if she did not know them; even had Dirge shared with her the conversation between them, she would not betray her sisters trust in him by revealing as much. As it was, Hydra had not yet discussed the event with her husband... and so in this, she was quite in the dark.