(no subject)
Time passes. Conversations ebb and flow. And finally a mood comes over--not the room, but certain tables in it.
And Yuna, perhaps naturally, has been keeping an eye on each of those tables. She feels it, too, when the time has come, and she rises, her face solemn and composed, and moves towards the door to the lake, carrying her staff. She pauses in the doorway, to catch Lucy's eye, and a nod passes between them.
And then she heads down to the water, to the edge of the inlet, where salt and sweetwater meet, as the sun comes down and turns it gold.
To wait, just a little longer.
[OOC: This is the Pevensie's exit post. Well-wishers and even spectators are welcome, but please, in subthreads below the first. These can go on even after the main thread concludes--time, as ever, is a face on the water. :) Thank you.]
And Yuna, perhaps naturally, has been keeping an eye on each of those tables. She feels it, too, when the time has come, and she rises, her face solemn and composed, and moves towards the door to the lake, carrying her staff. She pauses in the doorway, to catch Lucy's eye, and a nod passes between them.
And then she heads down to the water, to the edge of the inlet, where salt and sweetwater meet, as the sun comes down and turns it gold.
To wait, just a little longer.
[OOC: This is the Pevensie's exit post. Well-wishers and even spectators are welcome, but please, in subthreads below the first. These can go on even after the main thread concludes--time, as ever, is a face on the water. :) Thank you.]