love should be as flowers of the weedy sort
Kamaria is in a deep slumber, with the blanket drawn tightly around her, tiny fingers clutching at one of the silver stars. Her face twitches when she senses someone's arrival and she wakes, but she does not open her eyes yet. No, she's not ready to trade the warmth of her cocoon for the morning chill, even if the sun shines through her window and attempts to beckon her out.
It's only when Sunjata places a gentled hand on her back to try and rouse her that she pokes her face up above the edge of the blanket. Only one sea-green eye opens lazily to look up at him, resisting the swell of happiness at seeing his warm expression. "Nnno," she pouts, tugging the blanket back over. She burrows deeper into her bed, into the soft fuzziness of its comforts, and makes a vague sound of protest. "Don't wanna. Too early," are muffled words given to her pillow.
She sneaks a smiling look back at him, though, wondering... tempted to see what he might have planned for the day. More seashell gathering? More friends to meet? Or.. something different, perhaps? Different is good, different is new and exciting.
It's only when Sunjata places a gentled hand on her back to try and rouse her that she pokes her face up above the edge of the blanket. Only one sea-green eye opens lazily to look up at him, resisting the swell of happiness at seeing his warm expression. "Nnno," she pouts, tugging the blanket back over. She burrows deeper into her bed, into the soft fuzziness of its comforts, and makes a vague sound of protest. "Don't wanna. Too early," are muffled words given to her pillow.
She sneaks a smiling look back at him, though, wondering... tempted to see what he might have planned for the day. More seashell gathering? More friends to meet? Or.. something different, perhaps? Different is good, different is new and exciting.
they break through cement and persist
Kamaria
