(no subject)

[river_meimei]

There are a few wooden benches in the greenhouse, scattered here and there among the tidily graveled paths. River's lying on her back in one, one knee pulled up and the other dangling off the edge, head propped against the wrought-iron armrest with its rose-filigree.

Porridge Woman the frog sits on the ground next to her foot, catching the occasional fly. A rabbit sits on River's chest; she's gently stroking it.

The humid breezeless air smells of

(Anthy)

roses.

Comments

[balletrat]

*The door to the greenhouse opens, and footsteps sound - footsteps that seem like they have a right to be there, from the lack of hesitation.

A month ago, for her, Meg made a promise, and she's come to make good on it.*