Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
“Not yet, anyway.” And she laughed, warm and bright, before taking hold of another bandage, reeling it in tightly after the handshake was exchanged, ensuring this one too had survived its tumble. She committed the name and face to memory, peeking back up at him for a moment, before rendering her attention back on the dressings.
A doctor; perhaps in some way, but not in the schemes and reels that mattered most. “No. I’m the Caretaker at the Celestine.” Placing the wares back in the basket, she shoved aside some portions, staring over at a few of the market stalls, pondering if she should be grabbing a few other things, now that she’d had some time and moments to reflect. Her eyes went back to him a second later, realizing the response might have been lacking in efficient explanations. “Some of the dragons burnt up the last of my bandages,” she shrugged, as if this was common place and nothing was awry. “I have a rhamphire in need of some fresh ones every couple of hours.” Her head tilted, wondering if she was rambling, pondering if she should cease and desist. “What do you do?”
A doctor; perhaps in some way, but not in the schemes and reels that mattered most. “No. I’m the Caretaker at the Celestine.” Placing the wares back in the basket, she shoved aside some portions, staring over at a few of the market stalls, pondering if she should be grabbing a few other things, now that she’d had some time and moments to reflect. Her eyes went back to him a second later, realizing the response might have been lacking in efficient explanations. “Some of the dragons burnt up the last of my bandages,” she shrugged, as if this was common place and nothing was awry. “I have a rhamphire in need of some fresh ones every couple of hours.” Her head tilted, wondering if she was rambling, pondering if she should cease and desist. “What do you do?”
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
