“Try once more, but this time roll your Rs.”
“Why am I even doing this?” Witheria questioned, “Is this not a dead language anyway?”
“Who told you such a thing?”
Of course that absolute buffoon would voice such idiotic opinion and a wildly untruthful statement.
Allocer held back an insult towards his brother, “Bathin is..quite uneducated in this matter.”
He took a chair next to Witheria, “The language of the First Gods is an ancient one, but its knowledge is not lost. Shamura has once been extremely fluent in the language. After the battle with your uncle, however, Shamura has since been unable to use it often.”
Allocer placed a hand on Witheria’s, “That was until they had you. Every power, every ounce of ability they had left from the language was sacrificed in birthing you.” He raised the hand to fluff out the puff of the young god’s fur around their neck and shoulders, “You do wrong to mock the words and their work.”
Witheria stared down at the old texts, a small sense of shame slithered up their body and caused them to sigh.
Allocer pushed the book closer, “Once more, Young Heir.”