Today, 2:50 AM
Lyra was tending the garden.
Or attempting, in any event. She'd traded a fella for some bulbs he claimed to be magic, that would grow into flowers capable of healing most ailments.
But the instructions for how deep to bury them and into what kind of soil had been complex, with the assurance that if she did it wrongly, they'd have no powers atall.
Thus her fixation was immense, the length and breadth of swearing muttered under her breath was eloquent, and she did not at first notice the eyes lurking in the treeline.
Or attempting, in any event. She'd traded a fella for some bulbs he claimed to be magic, that would grow into flowers capable of healing most ailments.
But the instructions for how deep to bury them and into what kind of soil had been complex, with the assurance that if she did it wrongly, they'd have no powers atall.
Thus her fixation was immense, the length and breadth of swearing muttered under her breath was eloquent, and she did not at first notice the eyes lurking in the treeline.
Join the party at Highwayman Howff!
3-3-3 || IC ≠ OOC || Fiction ≠ Reality
I welcome organic IC interactions and any twists, conflict, or drama that comes out of it!
My characters are unreliable narrators.
3-3-3 || IC ≠ OOC || Fiction ≠ Reality
I welcome organic IC interactions and any twists, conflict, or drama that comes out of it!
My characters are unreliable narrators.
