To be made of thunderstorms
is to be peaceful
is to be peaceful
The Honeybee had hung around King’s End only for a short while – enough for a break away from Torchline’s reaches and needs and necessities – because sometimes the constant requirement for aid was exhausting. Rather than be fatigued, she ambled her way through Mourn and the familiar well, indifferent to its cause or concern, and leaned up against the stony surface.
In truth, she’d been hoping to hear more of her uncle’s efforts with the Refuge, and if the creepy ass lady had been thwarted inside, but with no incoming letters, she sort-of…hovered nearby. It’d be foolish to wander within while he was still testing things, and perhaps just as alarming to pop in if and when Dahlia was being cornered and questioned.
So she started tossing little fronds and petals towards Sila and Fangorn both, watching as they twirled amidst the scenery.
In truth, she’d been hoping to hear more of her uncle’s efforts with the Refuge, and if the creepy ass lady had been thwarted inside, but with no incoming letters, she sort-of…hovered nearby. It’d be foolish to wander within while he was still testing things, and perhaps just as alarming to pop in if and when Dahlia was being cornered and questioned.
So she started tossing little fronds and petals towards Sila and Fangorn both, watching as they twirled amidst the scenery.
the honeybee
To be easily found
And easily heard
And easily heard
