into the thick of it ➤ trying to read/learn irish gaelic

[Keona.]

[div style="width: 527px; line-height: 1.4; text-align: justify; font-family: palatino; font-size: 11px;"][align=center]— blackbird singing in the dead of night, take these broken wings and learn to fly —

The soft crinkle of paper and the smell of dust soothed her.  On days where the need for space and quiet resounded most strongly in the tiny Fae, her uncle's tree house became refuge.  He owned nearly nothing but books.  Countless pages upon pages, fictional and nonfictional alike.  Yet pale eyes could not read.  So soft in volume, her uncle oft spoke, reading aloud the words unreachable to her.  Until lessons began to grant her another way.  With soft paws brushing over gentle marks, Keona stepped into the world of literature, learning to read the languages she spoke.

She spoke three.  The tongue of her fathers and her uncle, her mother's and the common language spoken throughout the Typhoon.  Some left her tongue more often.  Others left quietly, mutters or curses or simple words.  Some came more naturally than others.  Gaelic flew off her tongue like second nature but it was clear her mother's tongue suited her more.  Perhaps in personal preference or the desperate need to hang on to something of she no longer had.  A closeness to a mother long gone on the way she spoke.

To that uncle with nothing but books the little feline intended her destination but a fresh scent trail left her paused on the sand.  The concept of brothers still bothered her, a strange and foreign matter.  How her far her fathers and uncle seemed apart... Brothers seemed more trouble than anything else.  Worse so, they'd been a complete surprise to her, who had bridged the gap between herself and Séamus... Not well enough perhaps.  Though a part of her argued he, like her, kept quite a bit private.

A small frown dusted her maw but a curious glint lit in glossy, seagreen hues.  With a flick of her spotted tail, the child followed the trail.  "Aloha?" Tucked away this small cove was, a natural refuge the island offered.  Still, she lingered outside a moment before slowly padding over.  Dust in the air.  Old pages.  For a second, she thought to look for Uncle Raziel.  "Are you readin'?" Perhaps she shared something with this brother.

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✯ — keona sibéal ó faoláin. female. striker of the typhoon. blind. rusty spotted cat.  ref. bio.