Weaver
Time is the substance from which I am made.
Time is a river which carries me along,
but I am the river;
Time is a river which carries me along,
but I am the river;
The girl wraps her arms around Weaver’s neck in such an affectionate manner, and Weaver can’t help but smile and wrap her arms around the girl’s small body and squeeze back. How strange, to be liked so easily, to be liked without being judged. At least it certainly didn’t feel like Seren was judging, but simply looking for people to care about, for people who would care about her in return. She’d already collected quite the group, and Weaver didn’t doubt she’d attract more. Perhaps Seren had a gravity all her own.
”You pick the game,” she says, throwing it back to Seren. Honestly, she’s just not much for games. She’s happy to play with Seren, to entertain the girl, but she doesn’t necessarily feel like thinking of the games. Her brothers and her rarely did stuff like this, though it wasn’t as if they could sit outside and watch the clouds either. They fought and they hunted and they skinned their kills and dried the meat. They traded in the market and occasionally played with the memory snow, but never for long.
”You pick the game,” she says, throwing it back to Seren. Honestly, she’s just not much for games. She’s happy to play with Seren, to entertain the girl, but she doesn’t necessarily feel like thinking of the games. Her brothers and her rarely did stuff like this, though it wasn’t as if they could sit outside and watch the clouds either. They fought and they hunted and they skinned their kills and dried the meat. They traded in the market and occasionally played with the memory snow, but never for long.
it is a tiger that devours me, but I am the tiger;
it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
it is a fire that consumes me, but I am the fire.
