Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
An incandescent smile radiated from her face the moment Frey made their appearance, and she bowed again before her favored herald. Then her eyes widened, gloriously impressed, as they altered the sweetgrass into nothing more than fumes and vanilla, waving the smoky essences over the staff. Within a few moments, it seemed unchanged; the leaves still beautiful, the armament still sturdy; but that much more enhanced. Perhaps the Caretaker as well, with new knowledge and healing provisions at her fingertips.
As always, she gave forth her generous sentiments. “You’re wonderful yourself. Thank you so much. It’s magnificent.” And perhaps, in time, she’d be able to unfurl it further – and her own practices – into mastery.
[FIN]
As always, she gave forth her generous sentiments. “You’re wonderful yourself. Thank you so much. It’s magnificent.” And perhaps, in time, she’d be able to unfurl it further – and her own practices – into mastery.
[FIN]
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
