04-19-2020, 06:15 PM
Rain doesn’t always fall here, but when it does, she catches it all the same, unknowingly tossing it over the canvas of her shoulder. Painting portraits of the Season without an artist's hand, it is a curious knowledge, progressing without thought or practice.
Even if she could control the process, the sound of weather only unfolds a half formed mural, and internally the sights of such things play out much differently.
The mind’s eye is a strange, unusual thing.
Beneath the protection of a shade tree, the storm becomes a -pitter patter- tempo against the umbrella cover. Jenger would remember this day, so few pleasant experiences have crossed her path and years from now she would unfold the parchment of this tale with a tender hand. Delicately touching the fragile, yellowed paper with a shaking finger and warmth beaming in her cheeks.
“There’s so much life, out in the open like this,” dipping her head in agreement to a peaceful Meadow. It was the sort of friendly place that made her feel welcome, even in times where she had been dismissed.
“Ischia,” trying the name for the first time, testing it with her own voice.
. “I’ve never heard of such a place.” They did not explore, or congregate near the Kingdoms, seeking refuge and sanctuary in the freelands. It had always been that way, ever since she can remember, and it remains much the same now- even in her solitude.
“Mother won’t come,” she admits, turning her face to the side, baring a cheek to her new companion. ”Even if I wanted her to, she just…” there are no words that would make the feeling less sharp, so she doesn’t finish what she might have said.
“I’m afraid I don’t know how to swim,” her face begins to curve back, unshed tears still lingering in the corners of her foggy eyes.
I’m afraid.
Even if she could control the process, the sound of weather only unfolds a half formed mural, and internally the sights of such things play out much differently.
The mind’s eye is a strange, unusual thing.
Beneath the protection of a shade tree, the storm becomes a -pitter patter- tempo against the umbrella cover. Jenger would remember this day, so few pleasant experiences have crossed her path and years from now she would unfold the parchment of this tale with a tender hand. Delicately touching the fragile, yellowed paper with a shaking finger and warmth beaming in her cheeks.
“There’s so much life, out in the open like this,” dipping her head in agreement to a peaceful Meadow. It was the sort of friendly place that made her feel welcome, even in times where she had been dismissed.
“Ischia,” trying the name for the first time, testing it with her own voice.
. “I’ve never heard of such a place.” They did not explore, or congregate near the Kingdoms, seeking refuge and sanctuary in the freelands. It had always been that way, ever since she can remember, and it remains much the same now- even in her solitude.
“Mother won’t come,” she admits, turning her face to the side, baring a cheek to her new companion. ”Even if I wanted her to, she just…” there are no words that would make the feeling less sharp, so she doesn’t finish what she might have said.
“I’m afraid I don’t know how to swim,” her face begins to curve back, unshed tears still lingering in the corners of her foggy eyes.
I’m afraid.
jenger
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