(no subject)
Time always moved on, which was a both a blessing and a curse.
At the moment, Isolde was taking to be a blessing for she needed blessings, since the tally of blessings looked rather dismal next to things that could be curses. But she was once a girl who should have a been queen in Ireland, and while she knew the value of such things, she wasn't about to die waiting for them to change.
She was going to change them herself, or at least not pay them any mind. The Gods could curse her all they wanted, but she would ignore them until horses became wishes and none of it mattered at all.
This was why, the warm day and warm sun found her on a swing, Jamie in her arms, rocking back and forth, going a bit higher than was probably best but still not high enough to fly away. They didn't have wings after all.
"I cannae stitch proper things, no knitting or weaving or the like, just strange things like fishing nets and cobbled together blankets," she was telling him, breaking from stories and forgetful things to remember how they were moving past. "Ye'll be the oddest fatherless boy I'll ever have seen, but never ye mind, fathers aren't so grand, and neither are mothers, really."
In her arms, Jamie made a noise that sound like the mix between a laugh and a cry and Isolde shushed him slightly.
"Oh, wee boyo, I didna mean that. Ye can have all the parents ye want. Mountains of them, hills even, and I'll teach all the good things, like how to fly. Ye like that? Flying, 'tis a grand thing."
And almost as if she was demonstrating, she held him closer, arms looped around the rope of the swing as she moved them towards the sky, a laugh accidentally escaping her. It was the strangest thing.
[ooc: open to any & all (old friends greatly appreciated, but new friends always welcomed). st/lt anything at all]
At the moment, Isolde was taking to be a blessing for she needed blessings, since the tally of blessings looked rather dismal next to things that could be curses. But she was once a girl who should have a been queen in Ireland, and while she knew the value of such things, she wasn't about to die waiting for them to change.
She was going to change them herself, or at least not pay them any mind. The Gods could curse her all they wanted, but she would ignore them until horses became wishes and none of it mattered at all.
This was why, the warm day and warm sun found her on a swing, Jamie in her arms, rocking back and forth, going a bit higher than was probably best but still not high enough to fly away. They didn't have wings after all.
"I cannae stitch proper things, no knitting or weaving or the like, just strange things like fishing nets and cobbled together blankets," she was telling him, breaking from stories and forgetful things to remember how they were moving past. "Ye'll be the oddest fatherless boy I'll ever have seen, but never ye mind, fathers aren't so grand, and neither are mothers, really."
In her arms, Jamie made a noise that sound like the mix between a laugh and a cry and Isolde shushed him slightly.
"Oh, wee boyo, I didna mean that. Ye can have all the parents ye want. Mountains of them, hills even, and I'll teach all the good things, like how to fly. Ye like that? Flying, 'tis a grand thing."
And almost as if she was demonstrating, she held him closer, arms looped around the rope of the swing as she moved them towards the sky, a laugh accidentally escaping her. It was the strangest thing.
[ooc: open to any & all (old friends greatly appreciated, but new friends always welcomed). st/lt anything at all]