Shifting Seasons

With the subtle chill of Burrowgatory, came the fall. The flutter of the fiery foliage, the crunching leaves under one’s feet and, for Sophia, a sense of familiarity. Compared to her hometown, Burrowgatory was certainly a lot warmer, a lot more lively, a lot more… alive. Unlike her hometown, Burrowgatory seemed to be the perfect life that Sophia desired, that she observed.

As the wind shifts, Sophia gazes upon the trees. Almost empty. As expected. With a sigh, she continues on. The seasons only seem to remind Sophia of cycles, how despite everything, time continues on. With day, comes night. With the afternoon, came the evening. With her longing for home and the everything that came before it, came the desire to only indulge in the sinful life much more. With the busy life of Burrowgatory, came numerous opportunities to do so.

So many opportunities. Countless. Too many. Impossible to count. It was merely spring when Sophia had first stepped into the city, when the leaves were just returning to Burrowgatory. Now, they’re leaving once more. She continues forward, despite these facts. Forwards, towards the Easy Speaker. Rowan’s… business.

Meeting Rowan was certainly an unexpected surprise, to say the least. From what she observed from the stories, the movies and even the words of others, Burrowgatory was the place to truly indulge in your vices. For Sophia, it was lazing in her bed, guided merely by the flicker of the old lamp in her room. The sheer bliss of observing the world, letting everything pass by. Of course, that would be a dream for Sophia. Unfortunately, reality means she needed to continue on. Continuing, meant living, of course. She had to have a roof over her bed after all, and the room would be nicer with a couple of walls… a fancier light? More pillows littered on her bed? Maybe the warmth of a partner or two? Now that would be something…

Rowan, however, would not be that someone. For starters, he was always being toyed with by numerous buns. Likely Ignition, sometimes Fragaria.

Maybe someone else who thought Rowan’s insistence on the “disgusting” behaviour of others was a challenge.

Sophia had to admit, the challenge was a fun idea, and she certainly didn’t object to it. Perhaps she might invite Rowan to enjoy the cooler air with her. Of course, he would absolutely reject such an idea. Sure, Rowan might be awfully protective of her, but Rowan was also stubborn. Frustratingly so. Despite everyone else’s attempts, few have gotten Rowan to budge on his stance.

And usually, it was the ones who were constantly around him. Sophia only really knew Rowan through what she saw of him at the bar. 

…Although, Sophia couldn’t help but think that maybe the bar wasn’t that important.

Her eyes once again glide towards the emptying trees. Once again, does the urge of home burn in her chest. The snowy fields, the frozen rivers…

Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen Burrowgatory with the flavour of her own home, right?

At least for now, she continues forward. As with the seasons, she didn’t have any reason to linger. Her eyes continue to gaze at the falling foliage, as the leaves sway in the breeze and litter the ground beneath her feet. She couldn’t help but stomp on them, feeling the crushing sensation beneath her.

She couldn’t do that back at home.

Soon enough, she stood outside the Easy Speaker. Slowly, her eyes glanced towards the window. Empty. Not surprising, given the secrecy of the place. She sometimes wondered just how Rowan was able to comfortably keep the place afloat.

She also wondered if Rowan would be pissed off if she just gather a bunch of leaf and napped in them.

..Rowan would absolutely be pissed off.

Yet, the opportunity was too good not to pass up. She ambled back the route she came, lazily raking up the orange leaves. After she successfully managed to gather a neat little pile, hidden behind a couple of trees, she sat down. Then laid down, the leaves shimmering in the sunlight. Lulled by the crispy sound, she closed her eyes.

She never would have been able to create such a peaceful spot back at home.

A shame she was unaware of the war that would break out back at the bar.