Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
“You don’t know how I feel,” and he was in no position to say how she’d act. How she’d want to unfurl. How she’d want to alter and change. And it certainly wouldn’t be the way he’d done – committing to atrocities, damnation, and death. “But I will not react the way you have.” A refusal to violence and vehemence, that kindness, that benevolence, that some of those extensions were better weapons than his attempt at obliterating lives. Chin raised, head held high, she tucked her jar back into her satchel.
There was no point in continuing the conversation. She’d made her peace, and he’d only further cemented her thoughts on the matter. Water poured, deity hopefully sated, she’d make her way back to Stormbreak, and begin to reassemble the pieces.
{FIN}
There was no point in continuing the conversation. She’d made her peace, and he’d only further cemented her thoughts on the matter. Water poured, deity hopefully sated, she’d make her way back to Stormbreak, and begin to reassemble the pieces.
{FIN}
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
