Ingrid is working on the Spring Court Hollow, going into battle with the very Thorns themselves to ensure that the Hollow, so recently carved out, would not loose its shape or shrink back into the Hedge. You can see that she has made a determined effort of it with a variety of gardening gear tossed around. She's gone back to the hedge trimmer, leaving the axe stuck where the Thorns caught it. Pausing after she refuels the equipment, she stretches and tries to work a kink out from her shoulder.
Her garments are worn, mute testimony to the Vernal Sovereign's battle with the Hedge. Her dungarees look tatty; her T is full of holes; her boots look in dire need of attention and her gloves are virtually shredded. With a mighty huff she puffs out a ragged breath and adjusts the polka dot shawl on her head.
Longingly, she looks over to the set of deck chairs and the crate with a bag of drinks. Oh how she wants to sit and rest! How thirst parches her tongue and ragged throat.
Maybe someone will drop by and save Ingrid from herself.
Orianna Seraphina