Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
Perhaps that was the problem. Lena didn’t want to hurt anyone. It wasn’t in her nature. It wasn’t in her heart. She’d seen enough broken, bleeding individuals laced with pain and discomfort, under rubble and ruin. So the youth swallowed down, holding her wooden blade aloft as if it were a shield, and desperately wishing she could escape the nature of the moment clinging to her bones. Like a mantra in her mind, slow and steady, she breathed, and then rolled out of the way.
Escape. She’d escape.
Intending to be out of Salt’s range, she dashed off to the side, armament held in front of her, waiting for some inevitable lecture. “Is...is that better?” Or should she have strived to truly flee, and run from the training grounds itself?
Escape. She’d escape.
Intending to be out of Salt’s range, she dashed off to the side, armament held in front of her, waiting for some inevitable lecture. “Is...is that better?” Or should she have strived to truly flee, and run from the training grounds itself?
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
