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golden_hawke-=It's cloudy and rainy and miserable. At least right now there's nothing but a cold spit drizzling down. Hawke's face is extremely somber as he's outside with a cloak on in addition to the cloth. (Man's cold, today. He didn't sleep well.) And he's outside out in what looks like to be the middle of no where, standing before a tree that has things tied to it. With a silent step, he walks to the tree and places one hand on it, moving forward a moment later to press his forehead against it and wrap one arm around the trunk. In his other hand are two more rectangular plates with string on them.
Scrawled on those plates are two names. One "Bubbles," and the other "Rachel."
Hawke's clinging to that tree for a long time before he murmurs a prayer in his own language, then with a sniff goes to climb the tree and tie the plates to the tree's branches. Later he'll carve those names on the trunk of the tree in his own language. But today he'll sit up in the branches to watch the rain fall.=-
Scrawled on those plates are two names. One "Bubbles," and the other "Rachel."
Hawke's clinging to that tree for a long time before he murmurs a prayer in his own language, then with a sniff goes to climb the tree and tie the plates to the tree's branches. Later he'll carve those names on the trunk of the tree in his own language. But today he'll sit up in the branches to watch the rain fall.=-
