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01-02-2017, 04:34 PM
Alysanne had been a wonderful distraction, and Lena couldn’t help but become overjoyed at the presence of her friend – diverting back to a few whimsical smiles, a minute sense of purpose, instead of bordering on upheaval, devastation, and complete melancholy (so much easier to slip into, and so much harder to climb out of). They followed the winged Queen along the water’s edge, deep into the heart of the Endless Blue, where the sea mingled with the fringes of the old marsh, and the Songbird stared at the debris, at the washed up pinnacles of archaic, ancient fodder. She greeted the others who’d gathered there with a simple nod, a brandished grin not quite meeting her eyes or her cheeks, before descending into the tarnished goods, the bits and pieces of rubble and ruin. None of her enchantments would be useful here; there was nothing to heal, nothing to set ablaze – but she still sang while she worked, trying to remember the tunes, the echoes, to some sweeter sonnets and stanzas, a distinct hallelujah, an attempt to retain portions of herself while grieving the loss of a sovereign. Her mouth grasped hold of some waterweeds, tangled, knotted, and gnarled, pulling them back from the sea and tossing them aside to dry out along the sand. Imogen, for her part, was truthful and set to her word, picking through the discarded reeds and fragments, foxy eyes set upon snagging bones, marrow, cartilage from souls long lost ago. She grabbed one with her fangs, and carefully dragged it towards Tilney’s cloak, where there was already a small pile growing (and she felt Lena try not to notice, not to stare, at the state of once fulfilled beings, gone now before anyone had a chance to know their name). So she chirped, a vivid, gleaming, golden connection between the duo, don’t worry, foxy grin emboldening her cheeks, before hunting down more of the shards and wreckage. her passions are made of nothing but the finest part of pure love LENA |
