Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
A name; Leviathan, meant to be prosperous, magnificent, massive, and monstrous. She tilted her head, considering the child, the hatchling, with pearlescent scales and leathery wings, wondering at the potential, at the circumstances, at how and when and where he’d yield or shield to become such a thing. “Quite a name to live up to,” and she smiled, an encouraging bloom, no doubt they’d both equally come to measure in the light. “Levi,” she murmured and cooed in return, picking through her pockets to see if she still had some treats from the other dragons in her keep. A few remained, and she held them aloft for her sister to take, not yet reaching for herself – they required time, a bond to settle, a connection to forge.
At the elbow in her ribs though, Lena permitted a warm round of laughter to exude, to exalt. It was conjured out of amusement and not determination to rampage against tradition or what they’d always been taught – but the mere notion of something slightly subversive. “Maybe he’ll be proud.” A hope, a kindling of so many in the prosperous world, in the way things changed. “I want to see things. Experience things. Become a better Caretaker.” Her grin lifted again, and her eyes found Sera’s, a question nearly on her lips. Don’t you?
At the elbow in her ribs though, Lena permitted a warm round of laughter to exude, to exalt. It was conjured out of amusement and not determination to rampage against tradition or what they’d always been taught – but the mere notion of something slightly subversive. “Maybe he’ll be proud.” A hope, a kindling of so many in the prosperous world, in the way things changed. “I want to see things. Experience things. Become a better Caretaker.” Her grin lifted again, and her eyes found Sera’s, a question nearly on her lips. Don’t you?
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
