.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
05-17-2017, 09:57 AM
As she grew, Maude also was growing into her own unique person. While, at first, she had been particular keen to write songs and play in meadows, she had soon grown entirely fascinated with herbology, and healing. So, too, had another twist arrived into thinking, and life direction, perhaps because she’d had far too much time as of late to herself, and her private thoughts, as she’d tended to the last flowers of the season. Such a day it had been that the quest she was currently on had begun, and why she was here, out along the border, so near to nightfall, gathering strongly scented flowers. Clutched gently in her lips are several sprigs of evening primrose, its pale white petals illuminated in the remaining light which wasn’t swallowed by long, evening shadow. She almost drops her bouquet in surprise as she comes upon the path leading to the gate out of the Edge, and finds her father. Wide-eyed, she carefully tucks the stems of her gathered flowers into the mouth of the pouch her mother had given her for her birthday, their aroma swirling about her nostrils as she looks back to Tilney, and the girl in his company. Smiling, wondering if she’ll be fussed at for being out so late, the growing youth (and the sassy teenager she is readily becoming) already has a reply in mind, if that’s the case. “Evening, daddy!” she cheerfully greets, oblivious to the somewhat sinister nature of the mare accompanying her beloved father; when she looks to the strange, tall woman with cheerful, light green eyes, all she sees is a potential friend, having made almost no enemies in her short life so far, “who is your friend? I’m Maude.” ’cause I’m holding her in my arms |
@Tilney @Idolum
Hold onto this lullaby, even when the music's gone.
