Lena
// what is to give light must endure burning //
She stood amidst the sun, gazing upon the work done and to be completed eventually, wiping lightly at her brow, setting gloves aside on the bench. The semblances kept her busy – all the blossoms and herbs, all the riches underneath and upon the soil; enough to wade away far more detrimental thoughts. Her fingers went to her nape, swaying her head back and forth to cease any impending knots and gnarls in muscles, before sighing, and maneuvering back towards the gate –
And probably would’ve kept going, had Zavien not appeared.
The Caretaker halted for one moment – eyes widening as she took him in. The lines of exhaustion, fatigue, depletion seemed pressing, overbearing; like an entirely different person than when he’d left. Her hands went for her staff that wasn’t there, and then her feet were taking the few strides over regardless, fingers lightly grasping at his jacket – careful not to pull, not to plea, not to grab and tear and wrench anything else apart. He was whole and tangible and there in front of her; but something was off – and she half-wondered if the injuries had been far more detrimental. Worry drew across her features, before swallowing down an entire litany of questions, and instead of giving those voice or increased apprehension, she settled for a breath, the glimmer of her smile, the quiet expanse of her careful words, trying desperately not to peek under the layers and drive away the small victories. “Welcome home,” she murmured first, beginning to unlatch the gate, leading him through the fence line. “Come in – can I get you something?”
And probably would’ve kept going, had Zavien not appeared.
The Caretaker halted for one moment – eyes widening as she took him in. The lines of exhaustion, fatigue, depletion seemed pressing, overbearing; like an entirely different person than when he’d left. Her hands went for her staff that wasn’t there, and then her feet were taking the few strides over regardless, fingers lightly grasping at his jacket – careful not to pull, not to plea, not to grab and tear and wrench anything else apart. He was whole and tangible and there in front of her; but something was off – and she half-wondered if the injuries had been far more detrimental. Worry drew across her features, before swallowing down an entire litany of questions, and instead of giving those voice or increased apprehension, she settled for a breath, the glimmer of her smile, the quiet expanse of her careful words, trying desperately not to peek under the layers and drive away the small victories. “Welcome home,” she murmured first, beginning to unlatch the gate, leading him through the fence line. “Come in – can I get you something?”
