Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
Used to inquiries about Mittens, including a fair amount still instilled in her mind, she managed a light chuckle. “Mittens. An abominable snowball.” As for how it had come to be, she really had no means of further explanation, other than perhaps the whims of Frey, Rae, or some other random magical assortment. “Tends to be a bit mischievous,” she whispered, though the creature seemed to be pretending not to hear her.
Sliding her needle and thread along the hem again, she persisted in continuing the nature of the dragon set before her, intermingling the woven ties until claws became obvious and known. Listening with her head tilted, her grin softened, delighted, at the semblances of marigolds in hair, or the beautiful nature of such a place. “Very tempting.”
Her eyes flickered back to his creation, marveling at the vines interlaced amidst lilies and snowdrops. “It’s beautiful already,” she murmured, impressed by the craftmanship. Though she wouldn’t reach out and touch it, the splendor was enticing all on its own. “There could be some flowers in these gardens that might be useful?”
Sliding her needle and thread along the hem again, she persisted in continuing the nature of the dragon set before her, intermingling the woven ties until claws became obvious and known. Listening with her head tilted, her grin softened, delighted, at the semblances of marigolds in hair, or the beautiful nature of such a place. “Very tempting.”
Her eyes flickered back to his creation, marveling at the vines interlaced amidst lilies and snowdrops. “It’s beautiful already,” she murmured, impressed by the craftmanship. Though she wouldn’t reach out and touch it, the splendor was enticing all on its own. “There could be some flowers in these gardens that might be useful?”
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
