Sohalia
The burst of appreciation through the bond made her feel slightly better, as though her hollow words held more meaning than she had originally assigned them. It helped her to relax a little, as she stared out amongst the flowers, mentally cataloguing the various shades and shapes that leapt out at her from the surrounding meadows. She would have to come back to Mourn on another day to simply sit and enjoy; it was truly beautiful, despite its name and the tone of the conversation being had amidst its floral landscape.
When Sunjata presented her with a singular purple flower, Soh looked up at him with surprise before gently taking it from his fingers. It was a lovely bloom, and she twirled in between her fingers thoughtfully. "You know," she said hesitantly, peering up at Sunjata with a soft smile, "My friends call me Soh." And in her mind, they were friends. Why else would he want to share such private details with her? It was a cautionary tale, sure, but why bother, if he didn't care at least a little?
Soh opened her journal to a fresh page in the middle and gently placed the purple flower between the pages, closing the journal carefully to preserve the integrity of the bloom. This particular flower was one that she'd treasure, as a memory and as a reminder of the lesson that Sunjata had offered her. "I will," she said solemnly. "I'll be careful." Maybe there wasn't a god she would follow; no one said she had to choose any of them.
When Sunjata presented her with a singular purple flower, Soh looked up at him with surprise before gently taking it from his fingers. It was a lovely bloom, and she twirled in between her fingers thoughtfully. "You know," she said hesitantly, peering up at Sunjata with a soft smile, "My friends call me Soh." And in her mind, they were friends. Why else would he want to share such private details with her? It was a cautionary tale, sure, but why bother, if he didn't care at least a little?
Soh opened her journal to a fresh page in the middle and gently placed the purple flower between the pages, closing the journal carefully to preserve the integrity of the bloom. This particular flower was one that she'd treasure, as a memory and as a reminder of the lesson that Sunjata had offered her. "I will," she said solemnly. "I'll be careful." Maybe there wasn't a god she would follow; no one said she had to choose any of them.
I've been waiting for your touch to bring me home
