Nova Peak If you must mourn, my love, mourn with the moon and the stars up above

"... well i'unno that one, so," phaedra said after a contemplative beat in response to her mother's exclamation toward her suggestion. mahler never used their not-so-secret-anymore language for "unsavory words", not even a word like hell, so if that's what wylla sought, she had to go in search of some other german dragoman. 
she pressed the pads of her feet into the mud, smearing her legs in this and that direction "eheheheh," until her mother's voice raked up her ears again. her eyes and then the rest of her face followed suit, blinking at the pulse on her in the equation. "you wanna say d' papa you love me? dat is the surprising him?" how very dare you ... she screwed up her eyes and her lips shriveled like a prune. 
her braincells needed to hold a council meeting for this one. her eyes skirted to the left, then stared empyrean in thought, before making some sense of what she was actually being asked. "oooooooh," she rolled her gaze back towards wylla and tilted her head with a queer look, "really? you wen'—" phaedra did an impression of her mother's ponderous sigh, "—like you was gonna ask me how d' say something like," she paused and raised her brows, "eh i unno," and made a curious hm sound in her throat. she shrugged.
"ok, you say: ich liebe dich, phaedra. ich, i, liebe, love, you. i mean. dich, you. ich liebe dich!" she instructed. it wasn't the hardest sentence to commit to memory, and fortunately for wylla there were no syllables that would impede her daughter's tongue.
"ya sure you don' wanna say summin more like, sie furzen im schlaf, phaedra? same thing, jus harder way. and more impressioning if ya ask me." poker-face.