Lena
and sweetest in the gale is heard
and sore must be the storm
and sore must be the storm
Her eyes narrowed a fraction, pondering just what he meant. In all the manner of her kindness, her words were calm, still pleasant, still bright, but clearly confused. "We speak for them. It doesn’t have to be solely you,” especially since they were of Stormbreak – the ones living, the ones thriving, the ones surviving. The ones who’d seen their building come toppling down, who yanked and pulled people out of the rubble, who wore the ruins and scars on their clothing, on their faces. Some stubborn little wall of pride flickered there in her chest, and even she was surprised to feel it surge. “Why are you taking this role on? That’s not your responsibility.” Or did he believe that he could fix everything?
Because it was far too late for that – and even compassionate, tender Lena could see the writing on the walls from miles away.
Because it was far too late for that – and even compassionate, tender Lena could see the writing on the walls from miles away.
that could abash the little bird
that kept so many warm
that kept so many warm
