Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
Lena, despite staying out of the Order business and all the brewing, brooding conjectures that came along with it, had heard Amalia’s name traced around the confines of Stormbreak; but simply had never put a face to the name. “Well, we’re honored to have a demigod of Vi here,” she grinned, not one to place too much accord where it may not be wanted. “And I’m glad you’ve enjoyed the Celestine. It’s a wonderful place. May it always bring you some comfort and peace.” For that was what it represented – the heights and glories of the gods, the mortals within it, and the mending, soothing, assuaging balms of life and all its creation. And a smile, a wave, extended towards Jyoti; never to be remiss with something as beautiful as a starwhale.
Unfortunately, given all the gestures of serenity and tranquility, the tasks were anything but.
It started withFalke and Ophelia – the treats still remaining scattered, the basket tipping, tipping, tipping over the boundaries of stone. Perhaps catching on the edges of a stall? And though Falke was considerate, methodical, and thoughtful, the herbs too fell off the stands, flickering amidst the treats into a wild mess of confusion and chaos.
Neither Lena orAmalia were out of the clear either. Even before the Caretaker could respond to the clarification, clumsy hands (hers) fumbled the labels, dropping them along the floor as well. “Perhaps we ought to have simply worked down here,” she laughed, still a picture of calm radiance, and then began picking them back up. “Let’s do so alphabetically? That might be easier to work with.”
--
Bad rolls, fam. Let’s try again!
Unfortunately, given all the gestures of serenity and tranquility, the tasks were anything but.
It started with
Neither Lena or
--
Bad rolls, fam. Let’s try again!
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
