Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
The youth gallivanted after them, excusing herself multiple times in the pathway of others, chiding her own soul for apt foolishness (she should’ve been looking where she was going, she should’ve understood or known where people would be moving about). By the time she arrived along the bandages’ marked trails, however, someone else had already snagged at them. Luckily for the Caretaker, they didn’t keep them for themselves.
Rising from her wayward crouch, she glanced up and up to find the man before her, fingers outstretched with the rolls of dressing. “Yes, they are, thank you!” She might’ve recognized him, but only by passing gestures; she had no business with Order things (save for the relation to her sister and the Artificer’s work), and generally kept to the Celestine, to the stars, to the gardens, and their enclosures. A bright smile found itself igniting along her features – an ever-present thing, unless something else caused it to bound and leap away.
The woman started to roll them back up, carefully picking away at the dirt and debris they’d collected on the street (due to be laundered and washed before she placed it upon some wounded creature), and then realized she hadn’t been very proper. “I’m Lena.” A hand extended, warmth exuded, friendly and amiable amidst the cobblestones.
Rising from her wayward crouch, she glanced up and up to find the man before her, fingers outstretched with the rolls of dressing. “Yes, they are, thank you!” She might’ve recognized him, but only by passing gestures; she had no business with Order things (save for the relation to her sister and the Artificer’s work), and generally kept to the Celestine, to the stars, to the gardens, and their enclosures. A bright smile found itself igniting along her features – an ever-present thing, unless something else caused it to bound and leap away.
The woman started to roll them back up, carefully picking away at the dirt and debris they’d collected on the street (due to be laundered and washed before she placed it upon some wounded creature), and then realized she hadn’t been very proper. “I’m Lena.” A hand extended, warmth exuded, friendly and amiable amidst the cobblestones.
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
