Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
Lena probably would have said the same about the Celestine – the best for what it was. A place of serenity, of guidance and hope, of healing and tranquil bouts where one could linger and rest beneath gardens and moonlit expanses. So the Caretaker smiled at the brief description, eyes meandering over the sails and planks, the boards and barrels.
She also took a slow slip, the burn guiding down her throat, her hands occupied by both drink and Mittens. The companion seemed wholly entranced by the new game it had come up with, leaving her mind to wander at Thalassa’s information and inquiry. “So, anywhere it takes you?” She allowed another smile, before her gaze went downward, a shrug to her shoulders. “Hoping for more information on the creatures infected by the void.” Which of course, hadn’t been forthcoming, and she didn’t want to admit how poorly their expedition amidst the Feverlands had gone.
She also took a slow slip, the burn guiding down her throat, her hands occupied by both drink and Mittens. The companion seemed wholly entranced by the new game it had come up with, leaving her mind to wander at Thalassa’s information and inquiry. “So, anywhere it takes you?” She allowed another smile, before her gaze went downward, a shrug to her shoulders. “Hoping for more information on the creatures infected by the void.” Which of course, hadn’t been forthcoming, and she didn’t want to admit how poorly their expedition amidst the Feverlands had gone.
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
