It laid in her lap, unclipped from her hair as Sorora brushed her fingers along its edges. Â Over time, that feather had seen its own fair share of hard times, wind, rain and dust. Â Her best effort was taken to leave it as restored as possible, and so, much as she did every few nights or so, clear lacquer and a brush was plucked from her bedside table. With care, she brushed the clear liquid along its edges, doing her best to prevent splitting and falling apart. Some might have even told her it was time to let go of such an accessory. Â The thought itself caused her heart to ache. Â The very feather served as a final reminder of her past, and though times were well for the petite midlander, it was the last memory she kept from long ago, one that left her in comfort and would long stay at her side, even as those came and went.
“Time heals all wounds, sure.† She thought.  “Though I am unsure what I would do if such a precious memory were lost and faded.â€
The lacquer was tucked away once again before the feather was placed on her bedside table to dry.