11-28-2020, 06:09 PM
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[div style="width: 360px; font-family: palatino; color: #2e8b57; text-align: left; padding-top: 15px; padding-left: 10px"]I'LL C[color=#36829c]OME BACK WHEN YOU CALL ME
Hooves drift slowly. The Fleshweaver lingering quietly besides her father. Her hazel hues found a fixed place somewhere far away, staring absently into nothing. Numbly, she took a seat, briefly finding the flickering candle and took a breath.
Her father spoke, but it felt distant. As though his words were reaching someone else's ears. She simply sat. The food ahead of her, unappetizing. She had not eaten. She did not want to.
Perhaps she should have stayed behind. The treehouse felt too quiet, an overwhelming sense of wrong barring her from lingering inside by herself. She didn't want to be alone.
[/td][/tr][/table]Her father spoke, but it felt distant. As though his words were reaching someone else's ears. She simply sat. The food ahead of her, unappetizing. She had not eaten. She did not want to.
Perhaps she should have stayed behind. The treehouse felt too quiet, an overwhelming sense of wrong barring her from lingering inside by herself. She didn't want to be alone.
© MADI
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AINE CHARLOTTE NÍ BROIN - THE PITT - 10 MOONS - RED DEER-FOX
[div style="font-size: 12px; padding-top: 175px; padding-right: 30px; padding-left: 5px; color: white; text-align: left; text-transform: uppercase"]I come & scour
desert flower
the land for the