To be made of thunderstorms
is to be peaceful
is to be peaceful
Never one to presume she fits in anywhere – the Honeybee is a jagged little piece of molten things – her eyes widened at the mischievous twinkle in Ru’s gaze. “Oh, I mean. I don’t see why not. As long as no one else minds.” Her stare flickered back to her companions, who ambled along behind (Fangorn with his petals, Sila along the sky), and then towards the rise of buildings, unfamiliar but comforting to know that King’s End continued to grow despite everything. It was nice to see success for her uncle, rather than blow after blow after blow.
Her head shook at the notions of the Ark or her own skyboat being thwarted. “No. They’re good to go.” She could only imagine Jack’s tears or tirade at an onslaught geared towards either. Eventually though, she didn’t have much to add other than the impulsive notions scrambling through her brain. “Any news on the Refuge testing?”
Her head shook at the notions of the Ark or her own skyboat being thwarted. “No. They’re good to go.” She could only imagine Jack’s tears or tirade at an onslaught geared towards either. Eventually though, she didn’t have much to add other than the impulsive notions scrambling through her brain. “Any news on the Refuge testing?”
the honeybee
To be easily found
And easily heard
And easily heard
