Oh, Ophelia -- Open, Visit

[SLOAN.]

Baseline hum, life present in quiet clamour, a comfort unknown until taken. Common occupant the child located in a corner overshadowed and still, along yellowed pages wandering touch light. Short hir time among those rolling knolls decorated with withering buds yet expansive of those who once and now reside, records parsed with eager curiosity. Halted hir reading as silence prevailed, thick in the aftermath of a echoing call, notes dulled but powerful in contained walls.

Begun anew their conversations though direction shifted, innocent the eyes that peered through fog obscured panes only to be pulled back. There is no such action staged when abandoned hir prior placement, a vulpine shade slipping through the assembled masses awaiting word safety was assured, weak the one brave enough to call. Ignored such lacklustre plea, however, forth pushed Sloan with something none may understand.

That is my father.

No other was present, elusive the figure of mother that had no hand within hir growth, among their tally others kin, none like them. Stilled hir momentum when the doorway yawned open before a light touch, admittance offered to that viewed with skeptical eyes. Though welcome ushered the second God into interior unfound it in fox that tread closer with a raised tail, pitiful excuse for a threat drawn across hir lips, a snarl more akin to a grimace. Between did eyes shift awaiting explanation ze knew better than to demand outright, at their own pace may Bai explain what was deemed suitable information for one such as hir.

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Roundest moon flutters on the river, night bird song coasting through heat hangs for a moment there cascades slowly down the thick air, landing somewhere by my feet waking up bugs try to repeat, a fine night to feel light

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code by Wisker