#something nice ..::

Rogue hangs gaily against the wooden fence, watching with her tongue between her teeth while he practices. There’s a break of light that crashes over his features, one that seems focused on illuminating him in particular, the chosen one. Touched by the hand of God, whilst she waits beneath it. Rogue has made peace with this place — with her role in this world. And when he turns to look at her, panting in exertion with a smile, she doesn’t think of herself as unlucky.