Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
Lena used the opportunities to check over the hares for more injuries, to linger along thresholds of healing wounds, stitched seams, or any broken lacerations. She continued to hum while she worked, calm and methodical, mellifluous and warm, tender and stalwart, only ceasing momentarily in her craft to tilt her head, listening to Anju’s response.
The Feverlands. A swamp. She imagined bogs and moss, peat and broken boughs, things from tales of mystery and intrigue, where one might disappear into the murky abyss; enough curiosity to entangle and keep her there. “I’m sure!” At the comment of Riya, the illustrious white and silver likely stained and mottled with the dragon’s indifference; a little light laugh to follow. Lena, of course, didn’t recognize the name of Mildew either – not when she was so often behind these safe and secure walls. “How was this Mildew?” What was a person who lived amongst the swamp like? “And did you see any creatures?” The Caretaker could think of a few who would be in and amongst the mire; but she’d rather have the knowledge and experience from an individual who’d seen them all firsthand.
To have the inquiry pinpointed back on her wasn’t something she wanted though – and the grin fell for half a second, and her head shook. “I’m fine. Normal, everyday worries.” If those circumstances were surrounded by the strife of gods and impending war and whatever she was supposed to be doing within it.
Waiting?
She rose thereafter, gently placing the last hare down upon the ground, and watching as it teleported in flashes of light. “I have some more to check on. You can join me if you’d like.”
The Feverlands. A swamp. She imagined bogs and moss, peat and broken boughs, things from tales of mystery and intrigue, where one might disappear into the murky abyss; enough curiosity to entangle and keep her there. “I’m sure!” At the comment of Riya, the illustrious white and silver likely stained and mottled with the dragon’s indifference; a little light laugh to follow. Lena, of course, didn’t recognize the name of Mildew either – not when she was so often behind these safe and secure walls. “How was this Mildew?” What was a person who lived amongst the swamp like? “And did you see any creatures?” The Caretaker could think of a few who would be in and amongst the mire; but she’d rather have the knowledge and experience from an individual who’d seen them all firsthand.
To have the inquiry pinpointed back on her wasn’t something she wanted though – and the grin fell for half a second, and her head shook. “I’m fine. Normal, everyday worries.” If those circumstances were surrounded by the strife of gods and impending war and whatever she was supposed to be doing within it.
Waiting?
She rose thereafter, gently placing the last hare down upon the ground, and watching as it teleported in flashes of light. “I have some more to check on. You can join me if you’d like.”
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
