Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
The Caretaker had been exploring – curiosity had always been her calling, a notebook already well versed in her pack. To say she’d been enticed into further inquiry would be an understatement, lured easily, perhaps foolishly, through the depths of the Oerwoud and along the Wishtide Waterways. Given more opportunity to wander, she would’ve lingered within the pools or amongst the twists and turns of the world itself – but there were other scenes available.
Like Frey. Tiny tables. Flowers. Candles. All neatly and adorably arranged – practically a lure, a beacon, for her to come and sit. Without thought to why, Lena was carried along whims, waving to Mildew in her friendly, amicable manner, before taking a seat. “This is wonderful,” she announced with an effervescent grin, already adorned with flowers in her hair. And some dirt covering her dress from earlier travels.
Like Frey. Tiny tables. Flowers. Candles. All neatly and adorably arranged – practically a lure, a beacon, for her to come and sit. Without thought to why, Lena was carried along whims, waving to Mildew in her friendly, amicable manner, before taking a seat. “This is wonderful,” she announced with an effervescent grin, already adorned with flowers in her hair. And some dirt covering her dress from earlier travels.
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
