Hester
You think you're hanging with the winners, girl
Ever since she was little, Hester has welcomed Flowerbirth with a song. It's symbolic, mostly, which is why it doesn’t matter that she’s a little late now, why it hadn’t mattered when she was young, and could barely manage a note.
The only thing that matter is that she’s standing in the most remote, unused part of the Citadel she knows of, the walls rising up around her, still hiding the scrap of dawn that’s managed to beat her awake. No matter the season, it is still Halo, so she is bundled up tight, a long, heavy coat draped around her, and sturdy boots, which have left an imposing set of footprints behind her, not that she’s looking.
For now, Hester is facing east, her fiddle tucked under her chin, bow held aloft in preparation. As soon as the sun rises enough that the first golden slice spread over her face, she begins playing, a bouncy, quick beat, the heavy boot serving as a percussion accompaniment. She’s lost, in her own little world, at least until the breath between this one and the next, the only time her eyes scan around her.
The only thing that matter is that she’s standing in the most remote, unused part of the Citadel she knows of, the walls rising up around her, still hiding the scrap of dawn that’s managed to beat her awake. No matter the season, it is still Halo, so she is bundled up tight, a long, heavy coat draped around her, and sturdy boots, which have left an imposing set of footprints behind her, not that she’s looking.
For now, Hester is facing east, her fiddle tucked under her chin, bow held aloft in preparation. As soon as the sun rises enough that the first golden slice spread over her face, she begins playing, a bouncy, quick beat, the heavy boot serving as a percussion accompaniment. She’s lost, in her own little world, at least until the breath between this one and the next, the only time her eyes scan around her.
cause you never seen 'em lose
