Ouroboros Spine muse

Oft would the reddened whelp listen to the songs of both her brother and sister. However, unlike what could be assumed, Ariadne did not detest the noise. In fact, she was pleased by it. To hear voices that were not her own were soothing in any moment of stillness or panic. They filled in the moments of her own silence.

Many times, she could make out the vibrations of another as well — the one she recognized to be her mother. As frustrating as it was, the little creature couldn't understand what was trying to be said. 

Today, Ariadne did her best to hear as her mother spoke; but still, she could not. It seemed like the words were meant to be important, hence the strain.

All the same, the straddle of another warm nose eased her efforts, and again she dove back within between the warmth of those born alongside her.