A white, leatherbound bearing Fionna's name in gold caliography was set out on a table in the garden dining area. It was there that attendees could leave more lasting and memorable well-wishes for the guest of honor or fond recollections as they passed through.
At it's side was a large, life-sized statue worked entirely from many different metals, all bound by the will and strength of another into something familiar. The figure they made was demurely feminine; a willowy being of proud posture fleshed in beautifully burnished coppers, bronzes, and silvers, all toned in imitation of the guest of honor. At it's feet lay miniaturized passions, from a motorcycle with a sidecar and a cello, to paintbrushes and other familiar implements. Impressively wrought and crafted with care, the perceptive would note that more than one natural opening between metals revealed that it's entire bone structure (and particularly it's spine) were all crafted in stainless steel.
At the bottom, a placard read: ?Heroes didn't leap tall buildings or stop bullets with an outstretched hand; they didn't wear boots and capes. They bled, and they bruised, and their superpowers were as simple as listening, or loving. Heroes were ordinary people who knew that even if their own lives were impossibly knotted, they could untangle someone else's. And maybe that one act could lead someone to rescue you right back.?
At it's side was a large, life-sized statue worked entirely from many different metals, all bound by the will and strength of another into something familiar. The figure they made was demurely feminine; a willowy being of proud posture fleshed in beautifully burnished coppers, bronzes, and silvers, all toned in imitation of the guest of honor. At it's feet lay miniaturized passions, from a motorcycle with a sidecar and a cello, to paintbrushes and other familiar implements. Impressively wrought and crafted with care, the perceptive would note that more than one natural opening between metals revealed that it's entire bone structure (and particularly it's spine) were all crafted in stainless steel.
At the bottom, a placard read: ?Heroes didn't leap tall buildings or stop bullets with an outstretched hand; they didn't wear boots and capes. They bled, and they bruised, and their superpowers were as simple as listening, or loving. Heroes were ordinary people who knew that even if their own lives were impossibly knotted, they could untangle someone else's. And maybe that one act could lead someone to rescue you right back.?