Post by gm minerva hale [dars] on May 17, 2019 17:45:38 GMT -5
She had a love for things that could hurt her, the soft center of her sister's hard edges. The favorite of the parents, the favorite of the teachers, the sensible one. The one who carried band-aids on her now, just in case. The one who was quiet: mousy brown hair in her eyes, knobby knees and paint splattered on her shoes. Her room was warm and well-decorated because she spent so much time in it, fairy lights and her favorite illustrations of flowers from borrowed botany books, a cup of coffee in her hand. She had a love for things that could hurt her, but they never would. Not as long as she kept her fear for taking chances. Not unless Kira drug her along on some ridiculous journey into the unknown. She longed for more, bright beyond her years and mortified of what came next, if anything at all. So many fears plagued her, none more so than ending up alone. None more so than never mattering. One day, she promised herself, when adventure came knocking, she would go.