Bearclaw Valley the specular thought brought on oneself:
i'll be damned if i end up playing Job with god's loving hand on my throat
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Poet spends her early morning at her makeshift altar, speaking in hushed tones of things she hasn't in a long time. Her catharsis has been private but no less real and when she leaves she scatters the dried petals of lavender across the dirt, leaving it mussed for her return. In spring she will carry hyancinth and wear blooms and watch the children of Bearclaw Valley grow and she is learning.

She is learning. Back within the borders of the Valley the woman takes some time to check her and Blondine's shared herbal cache. Despite the lingering effects of this everlasting winter, stubborn spring plants are beginning to bloom (she finds it relatable), and the ex-priestess takes the time to check on the few spots she knows, scraping the snow to the side to expose the willful buds to what sunlight there is. If they will actually bloom remains unseen, but Poet is rooting for them.
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the specular thought brought on oneself: - by Hamartia - March 14, 2018, 12:39 PM