camellia.
Camellia couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up, Raven’s fond recollection an affirmation that she’d chosen the right person to drag along for today’s whim. “And if I do ask you to stand and wave at me every time I go around on those stallions, would you?” She asked, amusement heavy in her tone. “Maybe another day,” she said, shaking her head lightly, still looking over at the carousel fondly. “It just feels both strangely calm and chaotic at the same time,” she remarked, still ambling along pleasantly, enjoying the late sun, the spring breeze, and the anonymity offered by the afternoon crowd. “Like being at the eye of a hurricane. Watching things happen, but never being a part of them. Unsettling, knowing something is afoot and being too far in the center to do anything.” She didn’t think to give voice to any of the specifics weighing on her, and far be it from her to ever truly speak her mind, though she figured Raven knew about all the going-ons she was concerned about: there were only so many things happening at a given time.
Her laugh was a pleasant change from the quite pensiveness that seemed to fall over the princess more and more often. Raven hadn’t decided yet if it was more likely that she laughed less often or that he was missing the chances to hear it. “Then my pride is forfeit to a good cause,” the Shadow mused, giving her loose, one-shouldered shrug and they watched the human children scramble for the ride. Eventually, Camellia did decide to talk. A winding sort of talk, vague and more literary in the extended metaphor than Raven ever cared to go, but it said enough anyways. “I’d be grateful for calm and chaos both,” He said after a short pause, “Eye of the hurricane is the critical place to breathe. Get ready for what comes next.” What came next should have been unknowable, but his own biases made their opinion known his head. He wouldn’t voice them and ruin what was a relatively peaceful outing so far.
