(the gloom of the city at evening is still)
It had been snowing then too, and if she was the sort to put stock in that sort of thing, she would say that it meant something.
She wasn’t though, not really, not at least anymore. Not quite in that way.
It was soft, and it was quiet and even though it was falling a bit harder than she wished it too, it was a better snow than last year’s. There weren’t any faces in the ice, none that she was going to go looking for anyways.
Wrapped in red woolen coat and more blanket and boot than a person and a half ought to be wearing, Isolde and her little son made the trek from one warm spot to another. Matching woolen caps and everything, she made certain to protect his small soft features from the cold. Chills never did anyone any good.
One year, and miracles had happened, that was one thing that she had realised, holding one still very newly grown heart to her chest, and it was beautiful, like a rose in the ashes and earth.
“Or flowers in the snow,” she concluded, stomping off her boots on the compound steps. This was a change that she found relaxing, not as imposing, threatening even, with all of the stone walls gone, replaced with wood that could be torn away.
She turned back to the quickly being filled in path she’d come from, smiling slightly, and rocking the bundle that was Jamie gently back and forth.
“You hear that Jamie? Can’t hear a thing, all that fuss has faded away, it’s beautiful,” she described, only to be answered with a fierce cry, for which she couldn’t blame him.
“Fair enough, that’ll be that, won’t it?” she told him, as she made work of opening the door without using her hands. Something that was easier done when it was warmer, fate pointed out. Much easier.
“Oh bugger all, won’t ye?”
[ooc: open the door for her, or even just say hello to the pair of them as they come in out of the cold. st/lt, a bit of everything welcome. ;)]
She wasn’t though, not really, not at least anymore. Not quite in that way.
It was soft, and it was quiet and even though it was falling a bit harder than she wished it too, it was a better snow than last year’s. There weren’t any faces in the ice, none that she was going to go looking for anyways.
Wrapped in red woolen coat and more blanket and boot than a person and a half ought to be wearing, Isolde and her little son made the trek from one warm spot to another. Matching woolen caps and everything, she made certain to protect his small soft features from the cold. Chills never did anyone any good.
One year, and miracles had happened, that was one thing that she had realised, holding one still very newly grown heart to her chest, and it was beautiful, like a rose in the ashes and earth.
“Or flowers in the snow,” she concluded, stomping off her boots on the compound steps. This was a change that she found relaxing, not as imposing, threatening even, with all of the stone walls gone, replaced with wood that could be torn away.
She turned back to the quickly being filled in path she’d come from, smiling slightly, and rocking the bundle that was Jamie gently back and forth.
“You hear that Jamie? Can’t hear a thing, all that fuss has faded away, it’s beautiful,” she described, only to be answered with a fierce cry, for which she couldn’t blame him.
“Fair enough, that’ll be that, won’t it?” she told him, as she made work of opening the door without using her hands. Something that was easier done when it was warmer, fate pointed out. Much easier.
“Oh bugger all, won’t ye?”
[ooc: open the door for her, or even just say hello to the pair of them as they come in out of the cold. st/lt, a bit of everything welcome. ;)]