Work Text:
An elegant ginger lady sits under a big leafy tree, sheltering herself from the sun, enjoying herself and letting time pass. Not a single worry in that pretty head of hers. This moment is hers and hers alone. A pile of books rests right by her side, where all sorts of titles can be read: The Secret of the Scarred Poet, At the End of the Rainbow, and Dreams of the Lost Ones; Serendipity reads the one in her hands. If you were to approach her, she would drop the book without giving it a second thought, directing all her attention to you instead. She would give you a smile, the brightest and most genuine one you would get to see that day, and ask about your day, secretly hoping you’ll ask about hers.
She spends most of her day running from place to place, catering to grown-ups and children alike. Most townsfolk find her kindness strange, almost off-putting, but it’s the only way of existing that’s ever made sense to her. In a dangerously erratic world, she’s chosen to be a piece of peace, a place of rest for anyone who took the time to get close. If you get close enough, you might even get a chance to return the favor.
At the end of the day, when she rests her ginger waves against the pillow, hearing the sheer silence in the emptiness of the place she calls home, she will brace herself and pray for better days. With her eyes shut, she will think back to the heroes in the books of her shelf, and think to herself how nice it would be to be rescued by them, to become just like them. Maybe someday. Maybe in another life.
If you were to find her reading under a big leafy tree, and she were to ask about your day, be kind enough to ask her back and listen. You will soon notice there is something she is not telling you.