the simplest things [r]

[nette]

the first thing that would be described is the weather. sunny, not too cold, not too warm as spring has yet to fully sink into the mess left behind by winter. a perfect late march morning, really. have you gotten that image yet? good. the woman in seated at the outdoor seating area of the cafe with the quiet little street is dark-haired, dark eyes peering out from hair clipped back by red hair clips, loose and wind-blown over her shoulders as she sips from a strawberry smoothie given by a waiter.

if pressed, she will answer with a smile and a name. eleanor. but outside of cities and their polite company, she will answer to a completely different name. which side of her do you desire?

eleanor sighs contentedly from her chair under the table's umbrella, watching passerby scamper to and fro on this weekday. people are calling out to each other in greeting, leaving her to think in silence and a thoughtful click of fingers tapping rhythmically on her table. the air here is light, unlike pax's; even the ground underneath her feet is light, airy, as if a single blow of particularly strong wind will blow her away.

(tamara doesn't like it. tamara wishes for the solid ground, the warm air, the knowledge that you are there because you are wanted, because it is real. eleanor quiets her.)

she continues to sip from her drink.

citrus w/ lacey