Sing to me, I am not doing well
Getting tired of my own words
Pausing only long enough to cut a sapling to fashion into a fishing rod, Maea picked off twigs as she walked the edge of the forest, searching for a good spot to fish. When a tongue of exposed bedrock appeared that jutted into the river, she emerged from the treeline into the bright sunlight. Dressed like a Fae in sleek hunting leathers of earthen tones, with a cloak cut to knee length and twisted to leave an arm free, she could have been one of them; wingless but just as small and lithe, stepping lightly through the vegetation like she'd always been meant to be there. A long braid roped over one shoulder caught the sunlight and fairly glowed against the colorful backdrop; pale as snow, pale as the bark of the birch trees leaning out over the rapids and the horns that arched out from above the temples. Like a signpost that announced her nature, if by chance the long tail had escaped notice.Getting tired of my own words
Setting down her burdens, Maea rolled out her shoulders and began rummaging through the outside pockets of the backpack for hook and line. Another flurry of movement nearby had her looking up, half expecting to see the moose come back; but it was a person, this time. Young and somewhat misplaced in her finery, the girl looked vaguely familiar from a distance though she couldn’t immediately recall who, or where, or when.
Lifting a hand in mute greeting, just to be on the safe side, the ancient went back to her own business. Finding the small box with fishing gear with a pleased hum, she sat down on her heels and began to untangle a line, patiently threading it in, around and through, searching for the end that would be tied to the rod she'd made.
Sing to me, cause I can't hear myself
through the loudness of my own hurts
through the loudness of my own hurts
base inspired by Odd <3
