Anti-OTP--Ragnelle/Kay
Ragnelle is enjoying herself as much as possible, now that she's decided to stay. She goes out often to be among the trees, on the grounds that this has got to help at least somewhat with the frantic, frantic longing in her blood for Inglewood; it's trees, for heaven's sake. It's trees she wants. Shouldn't any trees prove at least somewhat soothing?
So now she's without, deep in the woods, eyes closed, body gently bent close to a twisty-trunked maple, whose tangles of roots all but cover her feet. The leaves are bending towards her, truthfully. The leaves are reaching to touch her forest-dark hair.
It throws her beauty into a starker relief, makes it less earthly even than usual. It seems couched in the terms of the trees. She's like a tree, she's like a leaf, she's like a vine: as beautiful, but by no physical human standard. And she's in her element.
So now she's without, deep in the woods, eyes closed, body gently bent close to a twisty-trunked maple, whose tangles of roots all but cover her feet. The leaves are bending towards her, truthfully. The leaves are reaching to touch her forest-dark hair.
It throws her beauty into a starker relief, makes it less earthly even than usual. It seems couched in the terms of the trees. She's like a tree, she's like a leaf, she's like a vine: as beautiful, but by no physical human standard. And she's in her element.