[Finally painted on the 15th day of Sleeping, Y7] .
A placid atmosphere came with the dawning of a warm summer's eve, bestirring a sentiment that fairly complemented the merriment of the passing day. Children of varied age groups basked freely in the sun-embellished grass, sharing tales or exchanging hushed words of confidentiality. Others giggled openly; the younger of the few wallowed through flowers or skittered joyously in-between the sheltered trees. Those older (and presumably wiser) were hard put keeping up with such antics, and called without result after the gleeful youngsters. Pearly-winged butterflies scattered out of reach of the small paws that grasped for them, startled from clusters of blooming flowers by the delighted shrieks and giggles that pursued them.
Stop right there, young sir! And you, little miss… just where do you think you are going? Oh, honestly!" A prim-looking lady halted wearily beneath a sturdy tree, an emblazoned handkerchief pressed delicately to her forehead. Her eyes flashed back and forth with unrepressed exasperation, watching helplessly as each blissful youngster scampered through dirt and grass alike.
You put that flower down, Bastian! Goodness only knows where it has been…!" The annoyed caretaker waved the silky kerchief at a weltering child, who fled amid a surge of laughter with a bundle of flowers grasped tightly in his paws. Emitting a sigh of frustration, the lady turned to keep up her endless pursuit, but a crackle among the towering branches brusquely caught her divided attention.
Miss Elle! Just what do you think you are doing up there? Come down immediately, I say!
The momentary disturbance amid the clustered foliage repeated itself again, but an impatient sound from the tired woman got the budding flora moving again. A surge of leaves cascaded in a languid stream from the blossoming branches, whirling carelessly upon the passive air before settling amongst the aromatic meadow. Several burdened boughs were drawn out of the way with overacted ceremony, revealing the dazzling face of a rather amused-looking maiden. She pouted down in mock defeat, dangling her legs over the broad body of a laden branch.
You really should come up here, Rosa. A glorious view, if I do say so.
The ruffled lady was anything but amused, and she gave the rough bark of the aged tree a hard tap with the heel of a foot. "Droll, Miss Elle; simply droll. I do, however, insist that you come down here this very instant. I should hate to see what your mother would have to say about such behavior…" A particularly high-pitched squeal of hilarity caused the pristine woman to wince mid-lecture, and she tossed an aggravated look over her shoulder to the swarm of lively youngsters submerged in carefree play. "Really! You should know better than them.
Oh, lighten up a little!" Elle counseled nonchalantly, but after a prolonged thought sidled down to the branch below. Words of scolding were not highest on her agenda and, if granted the privilege, she knew all too well how lengthened Rosa's chidings could become. The lady watched with subdued tolerance as the maiden clambered from branch to branch, and pursed her lips critically as soon as her feet met solid ground.
Just look at you! A mess, if ever I saw one." Elle squirmed out of the way as the woman reached to bring order to her cascading hair, the tumbling locks of which housed a startling variety of leaves. A lopsided garland bedecked her youthful brow – one she had undoubtedly fashioned in the cooling solace provided by the shadowed foliage. The flock of playful children dispersed in an unexpected bout, their joyous giggling pursuing them into the darkening shades of the surrounding oaks and trailing them through the rich flowerbeds.
Children," clucked the lady under her breath, observing their lesser conduct with a hovering frown. "Surely you will not copy such antics, Miss Elle… A mockery to your status, I should think… Miss Elle!
But the girl was already dashing off after the children, her hair flying out from behind her like some ornamented banner, giggling and crying along with the scattering youngsters.
[Being worked on.]
