Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
Lena shook her head at the notions, mind settling into something routine, understandable, and not soul-crushing. Information was easy, and so had been all the plants she’d ever known and mustered through the Celestine, head down in a book of Nature balances throughout the Collegium. Noe’s explorations through the Greatwood made sense too, even if the entirety of the scenario, and these bizarre interims, didn’t. “This place is beautiful,” she added, allowing her senses to be absorbed by the song of the river behind her, rather than anything added by the vicious vegetation.
But as for the other inquiry, she could finally give some semblance of an answer. “Not that I know of. This seems new. And…foreboding.” Not an ominous figure, but cautious just the same; especially after her losses and lots in life.
But as for the other inquiry, she could finally give some semblance of an answer. “Not that I know of. This seems new. And…foreboding.” Not an ominous figure, but cautious just the same; especially after her losses and lots in life.
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
