Evie
i'll plant a row of daisy seeds
in the space beneath each eye
in the space beneath each eye
His excitement is ill-concealed, but charming, and it lifts the tired edges of her smile into something more sincere. Forsaking her leggings as a lost cause, Evie meets him halfway and sits in the sand, the thinnest remnants of each wave wetting her backside as she sets about transferring the shells out and the seaweed back into his bag. As she works, she lets her tongue loosen a fraction. “There is no loss of nutrients in cooking them, as was once believed. But I find they’re more palatable cooked.” Pausing, she eyes Hadama, intrigued. “Do you think your tastebuds are different to adjust for your diet below the sea?” A genuine question born of intellectual curiosity, holding herself back from asking him to show her his tongue by a hair.
Her hands tremble suddenly just as he asks his question, ice lodged in her stomach as one hand leaves the bags to reach out to touch the sand beside them. It shifts beneath her touch, dragging driftwood down the sand closer to her upon her command. It’s still terrifying to do even this much in front of strangers, but it’s a mental block only she and other Naturals seems to have these days. For that, she is begrudgingly grateful to The Voice for bringing in the Outlanders, who see magic so very differently and embrace being Abandoned with open arms.
Setting the wood into a picture perfect assembly befitting someone who works with flame quite often, she distracts herself from her terror by answering. “Very. By weight it holds far more minerals the human body needs than most other plants, and has a variety of effects. I prescribe it often for upkeep more than anything - children who have difficulty with stomach problems and can’t keep weight on, for example.” She produces a flint from her bag and sets about starting the fire properly, pleased when it catches without too lengthy of a struggle. “It’s also highly palatable, so people are more inclined to utilize it regularly.”
Her hands tremble suddenly just as he asks his question, ice lodged in her stomach as one hand leaves the bags to reach out to touch the sand beside them. It shifts beneath her touch, dragging driftwood down the sand closer to her upon her command. It’s still terrifying to do even this much in front of strangers, but it’s a mental block only she and other Naturals seems to have these days. For that, she is begrudgingly grateful to The Voice for bringing in the Outlanders, who see magic so very differently and embrace being Abandoned with open arms.
Setting the wood into a picture perfect assembly befitting someone who works with flame quite often, she distracts herself from her terror by answering. “Very. By weight it holds far more minerals the human body needs than most other plants, and has a variety of effects. I prescribe it often for upkeep more than anything - children who have difficulty with stomach problems and can’t keep weight on, for example.” She produces a flint from her bag and sets about starting the fire properly, pleased when it catches without too lengthy of a struggle. “It’s also highly palatable, so people are more inclined to utilize it regularly.”
so they'll remind you of your beauty
when they bloom each time you cry
when they bloom each time you cry
