LENA
it's not a sad song
Working in the Celestine, amidst many different animals and surroundings, ensured the Caretaker was well versed in the mud underneath her boots or the particular aromas disaster seemed to bring on – unbothered, as it was, and able to hold any bothers back. Instead, it was the ambience of suffering around her that hurt, maimed, and wounded her soul – any glance towards angled reaches left an uncomfortable binding in the pit of her stomach. She quietly passed over a portion of one box to Maea though at her offering, so they both could feel at ease as they walked through the refuse.
Her glance went to the crowd of people building, already beginning a steady march towards the mound of supplies. “Let me drop these off first,” and then she nodded towards the hammering noises – not as strong or unyielding, but willing to do what she could to support and endure. “And then I can help too.”
Her glance went to the crowd of people building, already beginning a steady march towards the mound of supplies. “Let me drop these off first,” and then she nodded towards the hammering noises – not as strong or unyielding, but willing to do what she could to support and endure. “And then I can help too.”
if you follow me I'll sing the rest
