Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
“Don’t mind Mittens,” and she handwaved the snowball away – and it left to drift back towards the snakes she’d been tending with a residual, stony pout, while she opened the enclosure to allow Sohalia in. Her usual gentle, kind, and compassionate self, she remained unbothered by her companion’s persnickety personality, not permitting it to reflect in her own actions and demeanor. “Come on in! I was putting some balm on the Mata Mata.”
Presuming Sohalia would follow after, she closed the gate, before humming, intending to return to where the black reptiles lingered, awaiting treatment. “And quite all right, don’t worry about it!” Because the Attuned shouldn’t, in Lena’s mind anyway. “How have you found Stormbreak so far?”
Presuming Sohalia would follow after, she closed the gate, before humming, intending to return to where the black reptiles lingered, awaiting treatment. “And quite all right, don’t worry about it!” Because the Attuned shouldn’t, in Lena’s mind anyway. “How have you found Stormbreak so far?”
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
