there's always a glimmer in those
Never a shuffle, but a series of rash, unrelenting movements, the youth and her gourd maneuvered through the wilderness, plucking at leaves and nettles, striving and ascertaining for diligent pathways. She hadn’t ventured towards the Mathair since previous seasons: before LongNight, when the blight seethed and raged. A part of it remained somewhat of a stigma, a reminder, of everything she’d done, boundaries mauled and mottled because she’d lacked control. Not today though, as the sun rose and began to fall, soft in its amber illusions and blends, in the descended grace, in the hum under her breath. “What would we like to sing to Safrin?” Her inquiry was for Fangorn, but maybe to the forest too, in the way the leaves curled without the solar rays projecting, in the way the earth turned to something else when twilight began to settle. The pumpkin growled and hissed something in return, and they continued their wayward trail, marked by memories and recollections; footfalls soft and restless.
(Open to anyone! <3)
(Open to anyone! <3)
who have been through the dark
MELITA
