Maea
Rest against my pillow
like the aging winter sun
like the aging winter sun
"You make it sound like a pet project of some sort," she responded, with a downward twist of her lips. Looking down, she folded a dog-ear on the corner of a page. "Like you count on leaving, too." Hypothetical and supposedly about this desk, she still couldn't help but take it personally. Some things were still too fragile to joke about.
His renewed interest made her own spirits rise however, and Maea gazed up at him from her seat. "Well there has to be something, doesn't it? A bottom to the gorge, something below the mist. The Kappa - it's a creature. Supposedly it has a cave or nest of some sort down there. You see it fly around sometimes, though never close enough to make it out properly. I've never seen it at all - I was never allowed on the Bridge." Rising to her feet she hastened out to the room beyond, and returned with a volume in hand. Flipping it open, she extended it to Amun; it was a children's book, full of crudely inked illustrations and worn from many sticky hands turning the pages. Spread out on one page was a creature; some ugly mixture of turtle, bird and frog, half obscured by swirling fog.
"There are stories about it, but no one really knows what it is, or why it's there."
His renewed interest made her own spirits rise however, and Maea gazed up at him from her seat. "Well there has to be something, doesn't it? A bottom to the gorge, something below the mist. The Kappa - it's a creature. Supposedly it has a cave or nest of some sort down there. You see it fly around sometimes, though never close enough to make it out properly. I've never seen it at all - I was never allowed on the Bridge." Rising to her feet she hastened out to the room beyond, and returned with a volume in hand. Flipping it open, she extended it to Amun; it was a children's book, full of crudely inked illustrations and worn from many sticky hands turning the pages. Spread out on one page was a creature; some ugly mixture of turtle, bird and frog, half obscured by swirling fog.
"There are stories about it, but no one really knows what it is, or why it's there."
Only wake each morning to
remember that you're gone
remember that you're gone
