we know very well who we are

Lena

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

Matching Cheshire grins were to follow then, either inherent family resemblances, or a knack for mischief lingering under their roles. The notion sparked and incited all airs of Lena’s humor, so the ethereal adornments were suddenly sprite, fairy-like, twisting and turning over her mind as her eyes went briefly to the ceiling, to the windows, to stare out and wonder. “Wouldn’t that be wicked. Positively evil.” And then she laughed at the image in her head, twin arctic foxes wandering into the wilderness, ivory fur blending into one another until hearts were torn over which was which. “Think of all the tricks I could play.” Her laughter softened in the dreamlike haze, on the gentle sigh that was ushered forth thereafter; as if that too would fade.

Unaware of her sister’s imaginings – but gods, how Lena would’ve loved either – a lighted pathway just for her beneath the stars, bound souls traveling and traversing in the midst, researching until her eyes could no longer stay open, caring from dusk until dawn. Maybe they were dim dreams now, but the embers had started to build, bloom, blossom under their own lilting prowess.

“Yes. I try to release them as soon as they’re ready.” No attachments, just love and support for those of Frey, brought there to be under her supervision, her care. Then they were mended, surging back to health and prosperity, to go where the divine winds took them.

that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm