Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
Lena, to her credit, had never been an individual to instigate any assault. Gentle and kind, compassionate and tender, forbearing and enduring, she came from a long line of scholars rather than Dragoons and warriors. The instinct, the drive, to attack had never been there – not unless someone was harming an animal, and even then, she’d been used to forging her way through skirmishes with words.
Defending herself was modest at best – swinging round again, huffing a breath as she aimed to block the move coming at her side. Another distinct lunge away proved that she was too far to do much else though, and she swallowed down some trail of bile that threatened along her throat. “Okay,” she mumbled, either to herself or to Salt, before moving forward, reaching out with her blade, and trying to tap the mercenary on the right shoulder.
Defending herself was modest at best – swinging round again, huffing a breath as she aimed to block the move coming at her side. Another distinct lunge away proved that she was too far to do much else though, and she swallowed down some trail of bile that threatened along her throat. “Okay,” she mumbled, either to herself or to Salt, before moving forward, reaching out with her blade, and trying to tap the mercenary on the right shoulder.
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
