[se] the reign of doves

Lena

hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul

Lena’s brows furrowed further, completely at a loss. She’d never known any dragon to not instinctually rise off into the sky, even when wounded or sick. “Interesting,” she murmured, thinking about checking out some books within the Collegium on the way home. Had this ever occurred before?

Taken out of her contemplative reverie, the youth grasped her basket handle a little harder. “You can come by in the morning then,” an accord and agreement to survey Pipsqueak and her current dilemma. “I should head back,” jutting her jaw towards the jewelry store, as her ring would be ready soon. “I’ll see you then. And brings lots of treats.” With a friendlier smile, and no explanation to the latter, the Caretaker hastened off, with promises stuck on the seams.

{FIN}

and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all