Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
Another to Halo – and Lena left behind, to wonder, to inveigle into her own inquisitive depths. “Luciana said she went to Halo too. How did you find it?” She didn’t want to hear that it was inhospitable, that the worlds beyond were far out of reach, that something would hold her back from wanting to explore – yearning for a reason for her enticement, rather than just craving to see what other kingdoms and thresholds were like. And still, her eyes only flickered over to Sera, attention diverted between shells and fissures, a world of snow and ice and everything else notched, embedded, in between.
Chosen - and how many people could say such things? Chosen by gods, chosen by creatures, chosen by the way life settled over them. Perhaps Sera had done something to earn the recognition, the merit, the potential lodged within. Perhaps the fauna had recognized the weight and ambience of her sister’s soul, and found itself beholden only to her, and to no one else – the random people, the frigid tundra. No jealousy, no envy, no avaricious gleam melded to her surface, only a gentle reverence as she hovered above the egg; proud of her sibling’s accomplishments. “Hello, little one,” she cooed with a similar essence to those she cared for amongst the Celestine.
An answer, a response, audacious and quick, caused a sharpened grin as she finally lifted her sights, her eyes, back to the Artificer. “A dragon.” An arch to her brow resided, and the smile softened then, as her palms melded and folded back together. “Congratulations.”
Chosen - and how many people could say such things? Chosen by gods, chosen by creatures, chosen by the way life settled over them. Perhaps Sera had done something to earn the recognition, the merit, the potential lodged within. Perhaps the fauna had recognized the weight and ambience of her sister’s soul, and found itself beholden only to her, and to no one else – the random people, the frigid tundra. No jealousy, no envy, no avaricious gleam melded to her surface, only a gentle reverence as she hovered above the egg; proud of her sibling’s accomplishments. “Hello, little one,” she cooed with a similar essence to those she cared for amongst the Celestine.
An answer, a response, audacious and quick, caused a sharpened grin as she finally lifted her sights, her eyes, back to the Artificer. “A dragon.” An arch to her brow resided, and the smile softened then, as her palms melded and folded back together. “Congratulations.”
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
