Let me take you down
cause I'm going to Strawberry Fields
Nothing is real
And nothing to get hung about
Strawberry Fields forever.
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e a r t h ' s l o r d
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Living is easy with eyes closed
Misunderstanding all you see
It's getting hard to be someone
But it all works out
It doesn't matter much to me.
No one I think is in my tree
I mean it must be high or low
That is you can't, you know, tune in
But it's alright
That is i think it's not too bad
Ziggva, whom has been absent throughout this tale so far, secluded herself within a small, self-made garden within the household. On the sixth floor, of course. Where else could she exercise her creativity within this prison cell of a home? A soft hum pushed past her lips as she indulged herself within her semi-amused mind. A new flower, she thought, was in order. Something friendly, something wild, and abundant... Something for mankind to enjoy. Maybe a little bit of daisy, hmmm... No, forget-me-not would work better. Add some nice texture, like a rose. Oh! Color, too. Pink, red, orange and yellow. A sunset, nice and settle. Hmmmm... A bit bigger, yes, and fuller. And so on and so forth as the flower developed, straight from her mind, to reality. The finished product turned out lovely,
She sighed sweetly, softly, pulling the pins from her hair to let it fall. They had been in so long, her head had begun to receive a headache. Her long hair rippled down her back, and her shoulders, as she calmly took a brush and went through it all. Her garden looked so happy, it did her heart good to witness it. Her bright eyes dancing with delight as she continued to brush through her fine hair. A deep mask, to be sure. To read those eyes would allow any onlooker access to the secrets they held. Her youthful looks gave way to the aged, worn look of her eyes. But none the less, she pulled her hair up again after the brushing had done it's job, and added one of the new flowers to her array of roses, hibiscus, daisies, and whatnot within her bundles up hair. Bidding her creations farewell, she stepped from her bedroom, and closed the door softly behind her.
The stairway was long, and almost uninviting in it's eternal length. Nonetheless, she took one step downward, and another, and so and and so forth, carrying herself in her usual dignified manner down the steps of the house. The silence of the area around her was almost haunting in it's multitude, her ears only allowed the sound of her soft breathing, and the rustle of her dress as she descended to the main floor. She passes the fifth, the fourth, the third, all without much thought to it. This was routine by now, a dance she had down to a T. The sound of a violin drifted up to her, the silence shattering to make way for it's melodic tune. "Ah, Cedric is playing again..." She voices to herself. She smiled and hummed along with it, until it ended in notes, and the sound echoed for a short while before ending as well. 'A pity, I missed it...' She thought, as her ears were submitted to silence once more. The water lord was kind, and friendly. She spoke to him less and less, however. Of late, Ziggva has been secluding herself more and ever more within her room. The interest this life used to hold was fading now, and she found she would much rather detach herself from it, and devote herself to studies once more. Old habits die hard, even after three hundred years.
As she came to her destination, she found it to be full of little, to no people. A smile broadened on her face for a moment, and a small greeting wave came as well, before she walked into another room, hoping to find another book to entertain herself with. She had come close to reading every single book there, now. But she always seamed to find one that had escaped her vision beforehand. And she hoped, sincerely, that this would continue. Sure, she always had a doll to amuse herself with, but that got old after a short while... About one hundred years. Plus, after her past, she really tried to give her doll as many freedoms as possible. She had no use for a female, for one, and for another, she simply preferred to be alone. Her and her doll maybe saw each other a few times a week, at most. And it seamed that they both liked it that way.
Indeed, it only took her about three minutes, once reaching the library, to find a book or two she had never read. Each one at least seven hundred, or so pages. They would amuse her for two or three days. They always did. Her thin, pale, gentle arms enfolded around them as she walked back to the main entertainment room of the old mansion. The white silk, satin, and lace of her long sleeves wrapped the books in a cloak of purity as she looked about her, a small amount of curiosity building, part of her wondering what everyone was up to, where they were... A small need for a social gathering building inside her.
☀S t r a w b e r r y f i e l d s f o r e v e r.☀