we know very well who we are

Lena

and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm

Pride a forgone conclusion in their particular household, Lena slipped into a more mischievous grin too – but her sights, her bounds, her notions had to be reserved for the creature before them. The cracking continued, fostered by the diligence and strength of the child within, the forged determination shattering shells and protection, where it would find its own once it emerged, and began its own dawn. “Oh, very well done,” she proclaimed to the fledgling, stepping closer but not to hover, not to take away any of the remnants; merely to share in the moments, to observe in case any future intervals took place within the Celestine. “Do you feel anything yet?” Her eyes went to Sera briefly, quickly, to the notions of bonds; uncertain how quickly they began to share minds and attuned complexities, to regard in wisdom, emotions, and other bounds. She presumed her sibling would be able to describe the sentiments firsthand, and with a studious mind, the Caretaker would listen.

There were other explanations unwinding through though, and she took a moment where her warm gaze wasn’t on the egg or the hatchling, but rounding back to Sera. “Oh? Is that to help with-,” she cut herself off, because she wasn’t certain of the implications; could guess, could estimate, could predict it had something to do with the sickness outside their walls, with the individuals presenting symptoms. No one had come to her with the semblances, as it wasn’t part of her repertoire, but she’d heard them throughout the gardens, discussing the bizarre circumstances. “Will it do anything?”

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm