Serpent Lake skin like daffodils

for @Kove but all welcome; sorry in advance for any inconsistencies while i work this child out

  the air tastes crisp, fresh. hauntingly familiar, as though they've been here, though in a way they have. legacies upon legacies; maybe eventually the legacies are worn into vein themselves.

 or maybe they're being dramatic.

  they're not even at the forest of story itself yet, though it must be near-by. or at least, they hope as much -- the cold isn't so terrible, but they'd like to get to aunt meldresi and get settled. they aren't the sort to dally about in natural beauty. it's simply droll. 

 none of this is on topic. sascha sighs to themselves, dragging a paw through the edge of the water. no, they're dallying for sure, an edge of nerves in their stomach they aren't used to. things were so easy, once. they were doted on. but that does not allow for growth, or so they were told. 'find your aunt,' yes, 'make yourself useful to the brotherhood.' all well enough. but in the middle of winter --! they could fuss, if they were inclined to give a shit.