Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
A thoughtful hum meandered along her mouth, echoes of past and vast lullabies. “And then your shop could truly bloom,” she uttered with a wink, sliding the needle and thread through fabric once more. Another finished knot on a set of claws, and she moved onward, weaving amidst patterns of hues, flora, and fauna.
Her inquiry about Stormbreak didn’t strike a nerve, though it seemed to give both of them pause. She craved others’ perspectives since she’d discussed sentiments with Anju; of how to manuever onward, when there was still no official leading force. She admired the protection and structure built into the island, but gods, sometimes they seemed to be drifting into lethargy amidst the repose, and she had no notions of how to counteract it. Did other lands have the same issues? “A bit listless since the war,” and she nodded, in accord and agreement. “The peace is wonderful, but it feels as though we’re stuck?” She shrugged, uncertain if that was the right wording.
Her inquiry about Stormbreak didn’t strike a nerve, though it seemed to give both of them pause. She craved others’ perspectives since she’d discussed sentiments with Anju; of how to manuever onward, when there was still no official leading force. She admired the protection and structure built into the island, but gods, sometimes they seemed to be drifting into lethargy amidst the repose, and she had no notions of how to counteract it. Did other lands have the same issues? “A bit listless since the war,” and she nodded, in accord and agreement. “The peace is wonderful, but it feels as though we’re stuck?” She shrugged, uncertain if that was the right wording.
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
