// think of the sun that shaped them //
A loaded inquiry, probably, but she nodded in return, fingers curling over one another, purposefully hiding the shaking. “I’m all right. You?” In a physical sense anyway – terror was difficult to alleviate in a matter of moments, and the adrenaline contorting through her veins would cease eventually. Her eyes glanced over the Dragoon too, aware of the toll banshees had, but only from books and legends, tales and stories. “I don’t remember ever seeing any in the Celestine,” which was fine by her, and understandable, given their characteristics. Swallowing down a trace of fright again in a long, slow breath, desperate to quell the fluttering in her ribs, she started to turn, drifting towards the stream again, recalling a search before screams.
“It would be nice to have an outing without something terrifying in it,” she half-laughed, trying to find her footing in comfort and contentment again, rather than fleeing from fear. Mittens grumbled from a log, flipping its head around and around, and she persisted, listening to the light babble of water without shades of screams erupting from it. She felt like she owed Zavien an apology, but she didn’t know what for – having no control over when monsters appeared, after all. Between the past few seasons, amidst Feverlands destructions, Dahlia takeovers, grotto smuggling, and lack of flowers, their attempts at much of anything had felt rather haunted and haggard lately.
Rather than turn the conversation into dismal platitudes again, she’d already ruined one traversing to Frey’s Breath, she kept her voice light and airy, hands breezing over the reeds again as she clambered around the embankment, chasing down purple blooms and vanilla aromas. “What did you need for your shield?”
“It would be nice to have an outing without something terrifying in it,” she half-laughed, trying to find her footing in comfort and contentment again, rather than fleeing from fear. Mittens grumbled from a log, flipping its head around and around, and she persisted, listening to the light babble of water without shades of screams erupting from it. She felt like she owed Zavien an apology, but she didn’t know what for – having no control over when monsters appeared, after all. Between the past few seasons, amidst Feverlands destructions, Dahlia takeovers, grotto smuggling, and lack of flowers, their attempts at much of anything had felt rather haunted and haggard lately.
Rather than turn the conversation into dismal platitudes again, she’d already ruined one traversing to Frey’s Breath, she kept her voice light and airy, hands breezing over the reeds again as she clambered around the embankment, chasing down purple blooms and vanilla aromas. “What did you need for your shield?”
Lena
// the speck of truth that's ours //
