Mere Serenity by Savannah
Serenity, she is called. Her hands are small and her fingers nimble. Her touch is gentle and faintly brushes against one’s skin. Her hair is a blanket of tumbling silky waves, a thick, yellow shawl draped around her shoulders. Her slim body is clothed with pearl white attire; only a thin, simple dress with the twisted ends twirling and floating in the breeze at her bare feet. Her reflective eyes are calm, crystal blue pools, unstirred and round as moons. Her skin is a pale color, almost white, and her round face is tilted slightly to the left side, her mind subdued in deep thought. She moves with a swift grace, her dress seeming to be gliding through the air, her toes almost hidden by the silken material. When she speaks, she speaks in a soft tone barely above a whisper. Her lips move in a slow, thoughtful way, her gaze directed at something far in the distance, something human eyes can’t see. Her figure holds a peaceful emanation, her body radiating waves which wash over the human mind, leaving behind tranquility and quietude. She is a thoughtful soul, her mind constructed of heedful ponderings. She never cries out in a rash manner, never rebukes other mortals in a strident form, and would rather keep her placid musings to herself than to share them with the beings which surround her. She is a wandering soul, a composed mind, and a serene realm of thought. For she is mere Serenity, and nothing more.