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

the kind of nectarious, perfervid love her mother meant was not a form phaedra herself was aware of— that low-sighing feeling of saudade.
not yet.
she was conscious to the spectacle of love that latchkey kids well knew; a fire escape type of love. to the moonflower it was just a thing you said to anyone who made you feel warm inside, and not to those you wanted to slingshot into the sun. 
suffice to say, wylla's request hadn't unbosomed her to any vulnerability that her daughter was like to pick up on. that's why she was volunteering more interesting alternatives! she was being helpful, by helping her mum come up with more advanced turns of phrase.  

a crunchy look came unbidden to her face as wylla attempted i love you. the first half was close enough, but the stress she put on the ending was ... well, what it was. phaedra bellied her cheeks out with a breath, exhaling: "ih-leeb-deh," more slowly this time.
maybe she was talking too fast. the secret language was a very rapid-fire tongue, but in learning, haste made waste.
as for her second option, wylla seemed more interested. phaedra suppressed the chuckle that threatened to barge from deep in her tummy, playing it off with a small titter that seemed like she was mere amused by the amateurish enunciation. "almos'! ze for-tzen em shloff," she again relaid, slower this time, tail papping against the wet earth.
"yes, tha'll do more nicely." phaedra nodded sagely.