Who: Finn and Helena Where: Helena's room When: December 30th, right before dinner
The breeze that drifted in through the open windows carried the scent of Hestia blooms in a delicate swirl through the atmosphere. To Helena, they smelled like a mixture of lilac and hydrangea... sweet and airy, with a touch of earthy moisture that still lingered on them from Housekeeping's last run with a spray bottle. ...or maybe that was the rain that lingered on a horizon the blind girl couldn't see.
Either way, the breeze was waking her up. It was a bit chillier out today than it had been, prompting an aimless sleepiness that was slowly lifting. Thank god, too... because Helena didn't feel like going on a caffeine buzz.
She sat at the vanity in her room: Sundance was half curled at the foot of the bed a few feet away, snoozing happily. Sightless blue eyes held steady in the general direction of the mirror, which turned back a reflection of straightened red hair framing constellations of freckles. She was putting her make-up on... a routine that took months to perfect while learning how to do everything else without her sense of sight... but she had it down now.
The organic foundation brush lightly skimmed the small compact placed in a specific spot on the counter, then brought to the area just beneath her nose. Helena could tell if there was too much or too little powder on the brush by it's potency in scent. Satisfied, nimble fingertips flicked the feathery bristles across her cheeks and nose, then brow and chin, and on down the smooth column of her neck.
She paused at the subtle rap of knuckles on the door that joined her room to her father's, just enough to chirp a quick 'Come'on in', and hear Sunny perk his head off crossed paws in anticipation. Helena smiled lazily, still 'gazing' into the mirror--the foundation brush set down and replaced by the next implement of beauty: the mascara.
"Rain is coming." She said quietly while unscrewing the cap. Sunny groaned lightly and went back to lounging. Helena held one fingertip along the tickling edges of her lashes, a tactile version of depth perception, while the other combed through them with the darkening hue.