His crown lit up the way as he moved slowly
You don't sit down, but you do put out a hand to lean upon a root (what kind of tree has roots this big?!), gulping in deep breaths of moist, earthy air. Fuck portals. Fuuuuuck portals. You're never taking one of those again (you absolutely are); you'd sooner spend a season on a boat (you absolutely would not).
Speaking of boats. "There's a reason I work docks." You're coming back to yourself slowly, though your nut-brown skin is definitely more blanched and boiled peanut than its usual toasted almond. "Right. 'm fine." (You are not)
You feel like you're suffocating. Time to pull off the scarf. "So... This is th' Greatwood, eh? Seems more an Okaywood t'me. Perfectly adequate wood." You say all this, but your eyes are wide as you look from tree to tree, clearly awed and impressed despite your churning stomach.
Speaking of boats. "There's a reason I work docks." You're coming back to yourself slowly, though your nut-brown skin is definitely more blanched and boiled peanut than its usual toasted almond. "Right. 'm fine." (You are not)
You feel like you're suffocating. Time to pull off the scarf. "So... This is th' Greatwood, eh? Seems more an Okaywood t'me. Perfectly adequate wood." You say all this, but your eyes are wide as you look from tree to tree, clearly awed and impressed despite your churning stomach.
past the wondering eyes of the ones that were left behind
zephyr
