Lena
hope is the thing with feathers
that perches in the soul
that perches in the soul
Lena wished she had her books with her, but they were currently ensconsced in the Celestine, waiting for her arrival back home. If anything though, she could lightly sketch the offending thing, and snagged at a few bits and pieces of paper and charcoal in her basket.
She listened while she worked, beginning to draw in the outlines, the deeper hues, the strange, almost deadened quality to it. “I’m probably just overly cautious,” she admitted with a slight arch to her smile, as if it were a flaw or defect. “But doesn’t that seem like a lot of things together? Too much to be a coincidence, I believe.” For the Caretaker had been raised amidst those piles of sagacity and qualities of the deities; something felt overthrown and tossed, ricocheting and boundless against Caido’s walls.
She listened while she worked, beginning to draw in the outlines, the deeper hues, the strange, almost deadened quality to it. “I’m probably just overly cautious,” she admitted with a slight arch to her smile, as if it were a flaw or defect. “But doesn’t that seem like a lot of things together? Too much to be a coincidence, I believe.” For the Caretaker had been raised amidst those piles of sagacity and qualities of the deities; something felt overthrown and tossed, ricocheting and boundless against Caido’s walls.
and sings the tune without the words
and never stops at all
and never stops at all
