05-23-2018, 07:57 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
She’s grown up on the stories of the Old. She knows of the kingdoms before the Reckoning (the Tundra and the Jungle, the Gates and the Chamber, the Deserts and the Valley, the Falls and the Dale) and the histories that tangle and weave with one another. Although she couldn’t list the specific rulers from memory, their names ring bells vaguely in the back of her mind.
A smile finds her mouth as Bristol mentions her parents. Brennen’s name is the most familiar to her memory, as his past his tangible and tied with her own. But her mother — Plague — is a distant, dreamy haze in the background of her mind, a name Scorch mentioned during the history lessons. But it is undeniable that Wishbone is much more familiar with the heritage of the Amazons (and now the Leviathans) than she is with any of the other kingdoms, so she is proud that she can even recall the name at all.
She has, after all, caught herself daydreaming about swimming with whales or chasing seagulls or racing along the edge of the cliffs.
“I’m sure we have what you’re looking for.” Even though they have known each other for these brief moments, Wishbone can tell Bristol will fit in well with the Leviathans. If their Kraken-counterparts do not suit her taste, perhaps the women will. She dares not call them feminine because, while some might be, there are far more women in their ranks who could be considered more masculine than some men.
She nearly laughs aloud at that thought, but manages to restrain it to a wild smile. She’s about to ask another question (she’s not quite sure what it is yet, but it would come out regardless) when Scorch’s call for her rides on the breeze. It must be time for another lecture. Wishbone shoots a regretful look in her newfound friend’s direction. “Unfortunately, I’m being called.” Her amber eyes turn toward the distance in the direction of the call. “I hope we can talk again at a different time. I’ll leave you to explore Nerine on your own. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to come and find me.”
With that, she offers another reckless smile and turns to lope away, tangled locks tousled against her mahogany neck as she moves toward Scorch’s beckoning.
A smile finds her mouth as Bristol mentions her parents. Brennen’s name is the most familiar to her memory, as his past his tangible and tied with her own. But her mother — Plague — is a distant, dreamy haze in the background of her mind, a name Scorch mentioned during the history lessons. But it is undeniable that Wishbone is much more familiar with the heritage of the Amazons (and now the Leviathans) than she is with any of the other kingdoms, so she is proud that she can even recall the name at all.
She has, after all, caught herself daydreaming about swimming with whales or chasing seagulls or racing along the edge of the cliffs.
“I’m sure we have what you’re looking for.” Even though they have known each other for these brief moments, Wishbone can tell Bristol will fit in well with the Leviathans. If their Kraken-counterparts do not suit her taste, perhaps the women will. She dares not call them feminine because, while some might be, there are far more women in their ranks who could be considered more masculine than some men.
She nearly laughs aloud at that thought, but manages to restrain it to a wild smile. She’s about to ask another question (she’s not quite sure what it is yet, but it would come out regardless) when Scorch’s call for her rides on the breeze. It must be time for another lecture. Wishbone shoots a regretful look in her newfound friend’s direction. “Unfortunately, I’m being called.” Her amber eyes turn toward the distance in the direction of the call. “I hope we can talk again at a different time. I’ll leave you to explore Nerine on your own. If you have any questions, don’t hesitate to come and find me.”
With that, she offers another reckless smile and turns to lope away, tangled locks tousled against her mahogany neck as she moves toward Scorch’s beckoning.
@[Bristol]