04-13-2018, 09:05 PM
haze like a fever
i fell like a dreamer for sweet tea and lemonade; it clings to my t-shirt it’s loud and it lingers, designed to suffocate. i light up to find what i’ve known all this time, there’s some beauty here yet
This stranger is laughing into the shadows, nearly tripping into lava and looking like a fish out of water. Wishbone’s never had to deal with the mentally insane before and so a tendril of something works through her belly. It isn’t quite fear or concern or frustration, but it brims on a strong desire to protect her home at whatever costs. The mahogany girl knows of the children that reside under Tephra’s protection and if there’s a danger to those young lives she will do whatever she must to stop that.
Wishbone is quick to analyze their surroundings, winding between thick trunks and thin underbrush like a practiced feline. She’s aware of the thin tendril of lava working itself through the forests just behind the buckskin stranger, though it isn’t deep enough to murder. It would result in heavy burns and deep scarring though. Wishbone’s encountered her own share of singed heels and roasted knees since living in Tephra.
“I’m not Jack. My name is Wishbone.” Her brows are pulled together beneath the thickness of her auburn-dipped forelock. She’s mildly confused at this woman’s thought process, but part of her wonders if the stranger is Jack and just got herself mixed up. Although at any other point in time Wishbone would welcome a stranger to Tephra, she decides not to disclose the name of this land. “You don’t seem okay… Let’s get you some water.”
With a nod, Wishbone begins to turn toward a bubbling brook of clean water she had seen not far away, glancing back every so often to see if the stranger has followed.
Wishbone is quick to analyze their surroundings, winding between thick trunks and thin underbrush like a practiced feline. She’s aware of the thin tendril of lava working itself through the forests just behind the buckskin stranger, though it isn’t deep enough to murder. It would result in heavy burns and deep scarring though. Wishbone’s encountered her own share of singed heels and roasted knees since living in Tephra.
“I’m not Jack. My name is Wishbone.” Her brows are pulled together beneath the thickness of her auburn-dipped forelock. She’s mildly confused at this woman’s thought process, but part of her wonders if the stranger is Jack and just got herself mixed up. Although at any other point in time Wishbone would welcome a stranger to Tephra, she decides not to disclose the name of this land. “You don’t seem okay… Let’s get you some water.”
With a nod, Wishbone begins to turn toward a bubbling brook of clean water she had seen not far away, glancing back every so often to see if the stranger has followed.
@[Jackel]