Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
Their squeals, coos, and infant roars all swept along her feet, and she reached out to stroke and scratch the onyx one nearby, and then the others in turn, while Finn seemed to make up his mind. She wouldn’t have been bothered either way, knowing and understanding that comfort levels varied greatly, but was pleasantly surprised when the man accepted it. A rich, genuine smile wove along her features, and she crouched down, nearly eye-level with the dragonlings, expecting him to follow suit. “Hand out, palm flat.” She demonstrated, turning her limb over, where it was calloused and marked with a thousand other nicks, cuts, scars, scratches, and bruises, the hazards of working with potentially wild animals. Then she placed a few pieces of meat along her skin, lowering the hand so the hatchling before her could snag. “Gentle,” she reminded the Stygian youth, who tilted its head, but paid heed, grabbing at the meat gingerly, before backing away to savor it, and the ivory and blue ones marched dutifully, biting and nipping at one another for their turn.
When Finn was ready, she’d do the same for him, intentionally placing the diced proportions into his hand, so that he could try. Lena remained exactly where she was, surveying the scene, paying close attention to the motions and maneuvers of the future powerful and potent beasts. “The black one will be ready to leave soon. It came in with some bad burns. I think it was picked on by siblings.” Survival of the fittest – sometimes signs of weakness were all it took to render them within the Celestine’s confines. “The blue one came down with a wretched cold, but seems to be doing much better.” And then she sighed, pausing, tilting her head. “And our little ivory friend here has yet to show me she’d like to fly. Injury to a wing, but I’m certain its healed.” Just time and rehabilitation then.
When Finn was ready, she’d do the same for him, intentionally placing the diced proportions into his hand, so that he could try. Lena remained exactly where she was, surveying the scene, paying close attention to the motions and maneuvers of the future powerful and potent beasts. “The black one will be ready to leave soon. It came in with some bad burns. I think it was picked on by siblings.” Survival of the fittest – sometimes signs of weakness were all it took to render them within the Celestine’s confines. “The blue one came down with a wretched cold, but seems to be doing much better.” And then she sighed, pausing, tilting her head. “And our little ivory friend here has yet to show me she’d like to fly. Injury to a wing, but I’m certain its healed.” Just time and rehabilitation then.
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
