Lena
Futile it might’ve been, but the Caretaker hated to think of simply being inept and standing on nothing but her own laurels and heartache. One sliver of the right information could mean an opportunity, a chance, that none of them held before – and with Sohalia gone, there were so many other jagged pieces.
Her brows furrowed at his statement, eyes narrowing and no longer clinging with salt. She brushed at her cheeks and buried her hands further into the soil, reaching below the loam and plucking at the roots of the weeds until they came up with her fingers, deft, arranged neatly beside her to feed to some animals later. And all the while she stewed, quietly, not in rage or animosity, but in something like irritation; it was difficult to name when she’d felt it so infrequently. “Of course you have a purpose,” they all did. His family? His friends? His loved ones?
Leaving it at that, her dirt-stained hands persisted, picking away at the unseen wounds. “But we’re not strong enough to do anything but bide our time or seek alternatives.” Whatever those happened to be – at the present moment she was trying not to fall apart into the reels of failure. Perhaps another journey to the Feverlands, to see how bad it had become, and how much worse off they could get. “Something is better than nothing,” she recited, much like a mantra. “Where are you staying now?”
Her brows furrowed at his statement, eyes narrowing and no longer clinging with salt. She brushed at her cheeks and buried her hands further into the soil, reaching below the loam and plucking at the roots of the weeds until they came up with her fingers, deft, arranged neatly beside her to feed to some animals later. And all the while she stewed, quietly, not in rage or animosity, but in something like irritation; it was difficult to name when she’d felt it so infrequently. “Of course you have a purpose,” they all did. His family? His friends? His loved ones?
Leaving it at that, her dirt-stained hands persisted, picking away at the unseen wounds. “But we’re not strong enough to do anything but bide our time or seek alternatives.” Whatever those happened to be – at the present moment she was trying not to fall apart into the reels of failure. Perhaps another journey to the Feverlands, to see how bad it had become, and how much worse off they could get. “Something is better than nothing,” she recited, much like a mantra. “Where are you staying now?”
little more like coming home
