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Week Fifteen - Tuesday
Who: Jinx, Kahea, Sentinel, and a few more
What: Jinxy goes for a stroll
When: Tuesday morning
Where: The Lodge, then out in a meadow
Rating: R for Violence
Today had started out like any other day; a nice big breakfast, a walk around the Lodge, a visit to the library, but then Sentinel had been called to speak to Jax. Jinx wasn't exactly please when their trip into the city had been spoilt, but it was Jax, and he was allowed to ruin their plans. He was allowed to, because if for no other reason, he had been the reason they had lived in the proverbial luxury they had since the virus. Things had been rocky once in awhile, but overall life had been easy for the siblings. So when Jax had called, Jinx had bit her lip and hadn't complained.
Before Sentinel had gone to speak to Jax, he had set Jinx up with a new book outside of the office, and had told her it would just be a couple of minutes and to stay where she was. The book Sentinel had given her was Arthur Edward Waite's "The Book Of Black Magic And Of Pacts including the Rites and Mysteries of Goetic Theurgy, Sorcery and Infernal Necromancy". Usually Jinx would have been charmed by the Victorian writing style,maybe even engrossed in just how wordy an author could make an easy statement, but well she was waiting for Sentinel, Jinx found herself annoyed by it all and inpatient for it to get into the meat. So setting the book aside, she left her seat.
Originally she thought, she would just get another book, but as she entered the library, she saw how beautiful of a day it had become outside. So instead of racking through the piers of books, she ventured through the glass doors of the library and out into the day.
Slowly she drifted through the gardens and through a roughly maintained hedge. After wandering about tens minutes, she found herself in an open field that was more like a meadow. It was curious to her how much the view in front of her reminded her of imagery in many poems and stories, and she wondered if they to had visited this field. That of course was absurd, but it was an interesting thought.
Laying down amongst the long grass, she started reciting an old poem she knew by heart,
( Song of the Flower XXIII by Khalil Gibran )
What: Jinxy goes for a stroll
When: Tuesday morning
Where: The Lodge, then out in a meadow
Rating: R for Violence
Today had started out like any other day; a nice big breakfast, a walk around the Lodge, a visit to the library, but then Sentinel had been called to speak to Jax. Jinx wasn't exactly please when their trip into the city had been spoilt, but it was Jax, and he was allowed to ruin their plans. He was allowed to, because if for no other reason, he had been the reason they had lived in the proverbial luxury they had since the virus. Things had been rocky once in awhile, but overall life had been easy for the siblings. So when Jax had called, Jinx had bit her lip and hadn't complained.
Before Sentinel had gone to speak to Jax, he had set Jinx up with a new book outside of the office, and had told her it would just be a couple of minutes and to stay where she was. The book Sentinel had given her was Arthur Edward Waite's "The Book Of Black Magic And Of Pacts including the Rites and Mysteries of Goetic Theurgy, Sorcery and Infernal Necromancy". Usually Jinx would have been charmed by the Victorian writing style,maybe even engrossed in just how wordy an author could make an easy statement, but well she was waiting for Sentinel, Jinx found herself annoyed by it all and inpatient for it to get into the meat. So setting the book aside, she left her seat.
Originally she thought, she would just get another book, but as she entered the library, she saw how beautiful of a day it had become outside. So instead of racking through the piers of books, she ventured through the glass doors of the library and out into the day.
Slowly she drifted through the gardens and through a roughly maintained hedge. After wandering about tens minutes, she found herself in an open field that was more like a meadow. It was curious to her how much the view in front of her reminded her of imagery in many poems and stories, and she wondered if they to had visited this field. That of course was absurd, but it was an interesting thought.
Laying down amongst the long grass, she started reciting an old poem she knew by heart,
( Song of the Flower XXIII by Khalil Gibran )