[SE] green fingers

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

The laughter chirped and nestled, and she was grateful for it, draconic or otherwise. The beauty of such a creature would remain embedded in her thoughts for a long while, as most of her creatures did – humming again, and then releasing her as the mood began to simmer into something else; the flicker of a smile no longer there. Her own faltered away. She’d touched a nerve in her inquiries, in her curiosity, and immediately dimmed in the quieter vocals. “I’m sorry.” Lena hadn’t intended to ruffle into other sanctities of sorrow; not near giggling trees or immersed spaces. The glow of her compassion still remained though, even as her eyes reeled away, as if she’d scorched too far. “May you be together soon then.”

The sapling maneuvered once more as people went by, drifting in and out of the winter expanse, a wry smirk tucked along the edges of her mouth. “I feel like we do a lot of waiting and seeing.” Praying. Crossing their fingers. Resorting to action when patience depleted, surged away from their veins.

Then she rose, taking hold of her basket, the generous grin still there, like a line for those sinking. “But I cannot any longer. Have a pleasant day, Ronin and Sugar. It was nice meeting the both of you.” They’d know where to find her, if need be – and she waved, pleasant and warm and bright, as she followed along the pathways of cobblestones again, heading back towards the Celestine.

{FIN}

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm