seen from China
seen from Maldives
seen from Italy
seen from South Korea
seen from Netherlands
seen from Malaysia
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from Russia
seen from Ireland
seen from Netherlands
seen from France
seen from France
seen from China
seen from China
seen from United States
seen from United States
seen from Netherlands
seen from United States
seen from France
☁ (pick a muse =3 )
“Oh. Oh dear. I really thought--” Rossiel’s brow furrowed as she held out her palm to feel the gathering drops. “--I thought we’d make it back before all this. I- I mean... I don’t think I can come to much harm walking in a drizzle, but I’d feel just awful if I let you catch a chill.”
📝 (pick a muse, any muse... feels abound)
My dear Maiken
Words, I fear, fail me in the face of so bitter a parting. I wish there were more time - time to know you, time to love you, time to say all the things that ought to be said. But I must soon go where you may not follow, and it grieves me sorely.
Perhaps, in time, you will find someone who can share all your days with you, even unto and beyond the very breaking of the World. And when you do, just imagine that somewhere beyond the Sea, my heart rejoices for you, and for someone so lucky. And know that even for so short a time, I too was lucky to be
Yours,Rossiel
“You’ve been officially labelled a disturber of the peace.” (Maiken)
"Oh dear. Has my singing become that dreadful?"
"Is this a date?" (Maikennnnn)
Rossiel’s eyes were wide with mock-innocence. “Hmmm... Just the two of us, on a flower-strewn hill beneath the stars, with a basket of good bread and a bottle of wine?” She swatted at Maiken’s arm playfully. “N-no, no, I do this sort of thing with everybody.”
*redheaded smith completely coincidentally is under mistletoe*
*stands on her tippy-toes to give Maiken a gentle kiss on the cheek, blushing to the very points of her ears*
‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’ ‘:*’
Rossiel returns Maiken’s kisses eagerly, only pausing here and there to catch her breath.
The smith guides a slender paintbrush that leaves the thinnest of lines in its wake, oulining elaborate, illuminated letters in vivid colours across Rossiel's shoulders and down her arm. When she finally sets the brush down, she can't help but smile proudly at her work.
The brush tickles, but Rossiel makes every effort to sit still.
She beams, too, as she examines Maiken’s work. It never ceases to amaze her how someone so strong can be so gentle, to produce such delicate details.
*takes Rossiel paddling at the lovely warm Weyr beach*
*finds this a very pleasant outing*
