Post by Saffron Ellison on Nov 25, 2012 0:56:02 GMT -5
THE TRUTH COMES OUT IN THE BREAKDOWNS
( • M E M O R I E S M Y G O D T H E S E M E M O R I E S • )
In skulking silence Saffron toiled through the gods-forsaken field, boots crushing whatever unfortunate sprout that was in her way. She had a ‘thing’ for herbs and similar growths, that was true, but she had never harbored any kind of soft spot for bushes and vines like these bloody strawberries.
Why she was here in the first place even managed to irk her, though not as violently. One of her patients had absolutely refused to swallow the potion she had concocted earlier in the day, even after her gentle coaxing and promises that it would make them feel much better. The very taste of it had prompted them to spit it out, so here she was, picking a crucial crop to the camp, to make a brew that wasn’t even supposed to have a flavor taste like a delectable vermillion fruit. The things she was willing to do for the sick.
Her knuckles were white against the pale brown of her basket, tied around with a frilly ribbon she was tempted to rip off and stomp into the ground. She had been preparing to leave the infirmary in a strained calm, when an Apollo healer wordlessly handed her the blasted thing and she got the message. It was a good idea on their part; she was surprised. Usually they didn’t know their sage from their lavender.
Saffron hoped and prayed to Panacea that adding the juice of a strawberry would not render her elixir ineffective. If it did, woe to anyone who crossed her path. She took these sorts of things seriously, as anyone who so much as took a wayward glance at her knew.
She liked to pretend that her garden was her only friend, however bizarre that may have sounded. It wasn’t as fickle and irritating as a person; she cared for it, and it never complained. Plus, it didn’t constantly call her a killjoy and a stick-in-the-mud, attributes she had been well aware of before anyone had oh-so-rudely pointed them out.
Crystalline blue eyes flicked over her surroundings; upon spotting no wandering camper or nymph, she glanced back down at the product of the vine in her hand. It was an especially plump one, practically bursting with the fleshy deliciousness that reminded her of those orange sunsets in Atlanta with her father before he married that witch, when they’d sit on the back porch and devour whole boxes of the food, talking about their day.
Gods, she was turning into a sap.
She plucked it gently off its stem and held it by the little green tuft at its head, spinning it experimentally in the air. With an exasperated sigh, the demigod took a careful bite. In three seconds, the whole damned berry had been crammed into her mouth and she was reaching for another one. She’d always had an affinity for the sweet and juicy edible miscellanea.
After the refreshing treat, she (with great difficulty) returned to her task of picking, but not very long had passed until she found herself lusting for another taste. With blinding speed the daughter of Panacea had grasped another fruit and popped it in her mouth, chewing slowly and savoring the flavor.
If she could die in this instant, she would die happy.
THEY DON'T MEAN ANYTHING OH THOSE MEMORIES
( • A S Y O U S P O K E Y O U R F O R K E D T O N G U E S H O W E D • )
( • A S Y O U S P O K E Y O U R F O R K E D T O N G U E S H O W E D • )
W O R D S • 542
T A G G E D • open
O U T F I T • click!
L Y R I C S • memories by lion if ido
T E M P L A T E • PANIC! ITS LAUZ of CAUTION
N O T E S • i don't even know what this is
