#-spamming psychobind-

[acosmicwayfarer]

The weariness that rose from unwonted actions melted away in part as he spoke... though, in its place, sorrow sprung anew. It was then that she realized that his origins were no longer with him, lost to disaster.

"I am sorry for your loss." When the opportunity was afforded, she spoke her mind. Though her eyes did not meet with him, they still felt to find their mark upon him somehow. A silence followed, one that felt to be carefully weighed and measured for what further words could be given.

Perhaps it was by design that he found himself here. His wasn't the first story of its kind for guests and natives alike of Aeden. It was to say his tales were not quite as spurious as others made them out to be. In fact, they were even relatable. In ways.

"If there is such a thing as fate, it is not always kind."

After taking another sip of her tea, her starlit gaze met with his once more. It was quick to stray, as was the nature of the beast, but it lingered long enough to exchange another brief, yet blissful beat that was a smile shared. Simple, but sweet. With her cup still placed thoughtfully within her grasp, she bowed her head before it in thought; its fragrant steam, though weakening, allowed another chance to fill her senses.

"However, true or false as it may be, there are winters that still find their spring," she continued, "and the spring blossoms of Aeden are quite lovely." The steady arc of her lips imbued her words with warmth.

Nothing was promised beyond the past and present, but the contingencies the future held were not all dour... and, be it for the very first time or once again another year, the thought alone of there being a possibility in which Wagnas could see the alas blancas and cerise magnolias in full bloom was a delight.

A snowy starter for @psychobind.~ 🌨️

A fascinating property that accompanied common forms of snowfall was a quiet nature; a natural sound proofing. It was, in fact, beyond notions of fiction and fantasy to know it for its quietude as it was very real.

Aeden was a robust place, full of life in nearly every corner, be it flora or fauna. A widely acclaimed synthetic paradise and a home away from home for many. The ambience was part of the experience; however, there was a tranquility that accompanied this snowy silence. It was as if the metropolis itself had been laid to rest. There was solace found in a more soundly - or soundlessly - sleeping city.

Plucking herself from the depths of her thoughts, she glanced over at Wagnas, who sat snugly upon a portion of the living room sofa with her. His gaze was locked upon the cold, quiet cityscape she pondered beyond the window. Taking note of the steam still drifting from atop the cup nestled within his grasp, she was reminded of her own, retrieving it from the coffee table. It was allowed a moment to rest before her; clutching it ever gently, she noted its reminiscent and serene aroma. A small sip was then taken. It was as soothing in taste as it was in fragrance.

Jasmine green tea was a favorite of hers - and it was no secret. Familiarity was interwoven into the essence of petals and tea leaves that comprised it, though, there was something that carried what felt to be a memory within its taste more precisely as well. She had partaken of this blend before, perhaps... long ago. A vague recollection, but a recollection nonetheless.

Reclining once more, she briefly contemplated the stretch of blanket that claimed her shoulder. It was given a soft tug, assessing whether or not it could be persuaded to allow her more of it... alas, it would seem there was only so much to be given. From here, anyway. Which was to say, there was an answer to the miniature dilemma of this missing manta, but...

With some hesitation and a signature brand of uncertainty, Sal contemplated said resolution. Her eyes scaled facets of the table, the floor - they darted about her with little aim, really, before she shifted mere inches to the right. Just a little. Just enough.

But it wasn't enough... the blanket would not yet yield the fuller extents of its comforts, oh no. How was there still not enough blanket? It was a big blanket!

The wayfarer moved again, another short measure to the right... Unintentionally brushing against Wagnas' leg with her tea-bearing hand in the process, it was retrieved in an instant - or as swiftly as a tea-bearing hand could be withdrawn. Not that it much mattered. For she now sat flush to him, shoulder to shoulder. At least the blanket finally gave way... somewhat.

An apology wasn't necessary and withheld by extension; nevertheless, it was written all over her face.

"Could almost be a painting." The view was offered commentary, her voice soft, despite addled nerves. "Does it snow back at home?"