Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
Drama for the sake of drama had never been one of Lena’s fortes, so she could only tilt her head, arch a brow, and give a light laugh in politeness, fingers treading over the patterns and pleats in her dress. “Deal.”
But the Ascended gave his name, and she collected it in the back of her mind, much like many of her observations. Some to be noted later, when fixing up an enclosure, others furtive and secretive, not to be touched again.
Like the way his smile fell when she mentioned Stormbreak – one could guess for multitudes of reasons. Her eyes lowered again, to the grass nearby, to the whispering echoes amongst fronds and hollows, knowing there was no true escape from the nature of what was to come. Her gaze flashed back upwards as he seemed to ignore the whereabouts and location of her home, moving onward.
At least she could discuss the Celestine, which afforded her the warmest smile she’d conjured along this impromptu meeting. A great semblance of pride swept over her too, hands loosened away from her clothing and overhead, trying to describe it with gestures as well as words. “The Celestine is a wondrous garden stretching around the city. Within it are enclosures, and Frey places animals that are sick or harmed within them. I tend to them, and eventually they are sent back out into the wild again.” A rehabilitation center, in a way, for the less fortunate individuals crossing over crueler paths. And her sister? “We are.”
Amun the only child, a potter, running the Art-isan’s Guild in the Hollowed Grounds. There could’ve been a collective narrative in there, affixed with all sorts of descriptions depicting Ascended, but none of the books or tomes had painted them as people. With occupations or jobs. With hobbies or gifts. She leaned forward, fairly intrigued. “Is your guild for artists and creators then? Are there many in the Grounds?”
But the Ascended gave his name, and she collected it in the back of her mind, much like many of her observations. Some to be noted later, when fixing up an enclosure, others furtive and secretive, not to be touched again.
Like the way his smile fell when she mentioned Stormbreak – one could guess for multitudes of reasons. Her eyes lowered again, to the grass nearby, to the whispering echoes amongst fronds and hollows, knowing there was no true escape from the nature of what was to come. Her gaze flashed back upwards as he seemed to ignore the whereabouts and location of her home, moving onward.
At least she could discuss the Celestine, which afforded her the warmest smile she’d conjured along this impromptu meeting. A great semblance of pride swept over her too, hands loosened away from her clothing and overhead, trying to describe it with gestures as well as words. “The Celestine is a wondrous garden stretching around the city. Within it are enclosures, and Frey places animals that are sick or harmed within them. I tend to them, and eventually they are sent back out into the wild again.” A rehabilitation center, in a way, for the less fortunate individuals crossing over crueler paths. And her sister? “We are.”
Amun the only child, a potter, running the Art-isan’s Guild in the Hollowed Grounds. There could’ve been a collective narrative in there, affixed with all sorts of descriptions depicting Ascended, but none of the books or tomes had painted them as people. With occupations or jobs. With hobbies or gifts. She leaned forward, fairly intrigued. “Is your guild for artists and creators then? Are there many in the Grounds?”
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
