// hope, is wonderfully messy //
She’d be the first to admit her love of her home, but entirely forthright in its rather cruel history. She figured no land or region had all innocence and irreproachability; there was always something lined in the mercurial edges. Stormbreak had always been overt in its scruples though; in the hatred of some, in the way they’d guarded and protected and ensured. When all those portions were dismantled, the legends remained amidst the stone cold complexions. It was a wonder why some hadn’t been taken down in Sohalia’s time; but then again, there’d been multitudes of other priorities. And maybe they served as reminders, rather than the fierce spectacles and warnings of yesteryear.
The Needle especially, and as they approached she yielded a long and low breath. “It used to be for punishment.” She trusted Hadama to understand its name alone. “If one was to be disciplined, usually by whip, they had to face the Needle, and see their own reflection as they repented for their sins.” She didn’t glance his way, but stared at the spire, wondering what sort of crimes they might have cemented in now. Sedition for her, and so many others, against their tyrannical ruler of the throne, for now.
The Needle especially, and as they approached she yielded a long and low breath. “It used to be for punishment.” She trusted Hadama to understand its name alone. “If one was to be disciplined, usually by whip, they had to face the Needle, and see their own reflection as they repented for their sins.” She didn’t glance his way, but stared at the spire, wondering what sort of crimes they might have cemented in now. Sedition for her, and so many others, against their tyrannical ruler of the throne, for now.
Lena
// we must weather the potential of happiness //
