Your braids like a pattern
Love you to the moon and to Saturn
Love you to the moon and to Saturn
Snorting in response to Deimos's wry reply, Lyra shakes out her fur, sending droplets flying. She hadn't been brought up in a particularly loving home; she grew up in an orphanage, where there were too many children to be loved properly. It had been easier to control them, and one way of doing that is, unfortunately, through instilling fear. It was a practice she's never used with the children she's adopted, preferring gentler parenting tactics.
At least Deimos's tale is reasonable; if one can't swim, there is a risk. At least that one's somewhat true, depending on where you are, she says. But I take it there was more to the warning? Some depth to the story that he hasn't shared, perhaps, beyond a perfectly reasonable warning against the ocean currents.
Where are you from? she asked curiously. I take it not from Halo?
At least Deimos's tale is reasonable; if one can't swim, there is a risk. At least that one's somewhat true, depending on where you are, she says. But I take it there was more to the warning? Some depth to the story that he hasn't shared, perhaps, beyond a perfectly reasonable warning against the ocean currents.
Where are you from? she asked curiously. I take it not from Halo?
Passed down like folk songs
The love lasts so long
The love lasts so long
Lyra
