LENA
it's not a sad song
The inquiry made sense, and despite Lena’s occupation, she didn’t have any additional insight – the intrigue still there and worn and traced over multiple journal entries and questions to gods. “Only what everyone else has already experienced. Attacks. Dangerous plants. I’ve recorded quite a few,” she gestured to the basket still laden over her shoulder, full of information and notations. “But I don’t have any answers. I’m not sure any of us do.” Drawing another swipe of her paintbrush along portions of wood, she heaved a sigh. “Most will probably presume it has something to do with the moon island, but it started before that thing landed, so…,” ultimately, she didn’t know, and Lena wasn’t afraid to unfurl ignorance.
She could only shrug her shoulders too, but kept working. Forging onward gave her pause in its own stead, and though Maea’s reasoning for visits might have instigated a round of prying from others, Lena wouldn’t do the same. She kept her own traumas locked tight against her chest, and in her mind, she refused to pluck away at anyone else’s. “Where do you live now?” Instead, it was simplistic – since Torchline wasn’t offering any shelter at the moment.
She could only shrug her shoulders too, but kept working. Forging onward gave her pause in its own stead, and though Maea’s reasoning for visits might have instigated a round of prying from others, Lena wouldn’t do the same. She kept her own traumas locked tight against her chest, and in her mind, she refused to pluck away at anyone else’s. “Where do you live now?” Instead, it was simplistic – since Torchline wasn’t offering any shelter at the moment.
if you follow me I'll sing the rest
