 Which came first, the phoenix or the flame?
It was a nice day today, so Brandon Fox was outside. Poetry book under his arm, he'd gone outside to read when he'd gotten distracted and decided to look around instead. First, he explored the fountain: it was old, he noticed, and a little intimidating. He liked that it had birds, even worn away ones. He saw that there were some coins in it, and wondered why people hadn't tried to steal them yet. Then he moved to the plaque. It was metal-y, maybe bronze, and the pillar it was attached to had obviously once been broken. There was no reason why someone couldn't have fixed it properly- maybe it was a memorial and that's why they left it cracked? The memorial was for the war. Brandon didn't like to look at it. Even if it was a happy memorial, apparently. He moved on to the other, less upsetting pillars, tied together with arches(...gothic?). He walked around the covered area, looking around, and eventually flopped down to read his book.
After only a little while, Brandon looked up as a person approached. He always looked up, when people were approaching. Just in case. He was relieved to see it was only the girl who said he could braid her hair, and let go of a breath he didn't think he'd been holding. "Aurora! Hi!" Waving, he subtly made space for her to sit. If she wanted to, anyway. |