it must have been a curse.
an angry witch must have finally had a curse find its mark. it seemed to be working to carving and gutting sapphique.
in turn, it was carving and gutting her.
her own anger now had drawn her figure slim and bedraggled. clearly she was unwell, but she had pushed her path inland. the plains cold and frigid. she could no longer see the ocean from where she stood. it felt like it cursed her twice over for such a thing.
her pace was a run, cutting quickly over the open lands and heading further away from the sea.
an angry witch must have finally had a curse find its mark. it seemed to be working to carving and gutting sapphique.
in turn, it was carving and gutting her.
her own anger now had drawn her figure slim and bedraggled. clearly she was unwell, but she had pushed her path inland. the plains cold and frigid. she could no longer see the ocean from where she stood. it felt like it cursed her twice over for such a thing.
her pace was a run, cutting quickly over the open lands and heading further away from the sea.
January 02, 2025, 02:34 PM
Bird watching was a fascination with his mother. Simple-minded she was not, being a lord's wife, but this was a pastime Marius had never understood. Birds were brainless and sometimes pretty; he didn't imagine mother to find kinship with the pathetic things.
It was only later on in life that Marius began to understand some part of it. That birds could be so vastly different was a marvel - some were quick and dark, others fluorescent in color or arrangement, and still others rusty red-breasted or earth toned, flightless. It was the same with women.
He likened the little silver woman to a house finch. Nothing spectacular, nice to look at, maybe shrill of voice if he could get near enough to hear her. She was tearing across the landscape like a swallowtail.
Roaming nearer, he would wait for her to tire from this bolting pace, and maybe by then her histrionics would have petered out enough for her to notice him.
It was only later on in life that Marius began to understand some part of it. That birds could be so vastly different was a marvel - some were quick and dark, others fluorescent in color or arrangement, and still others rusty red-breasted or earth toned, flightless. It was the same with women.
He likened the little silver woman to a house finch. Nothing spectacular, nice to look at, maybe shrill of voice if he could get near enough to hear her. She was tearing across the landscape like a swallowtail.
Roaming nearer, he would wait for her to tire from this bolting pace, and maybe by then her histrionics would have petered out enough for her to notice him.
January 07, 2025, 11:41 PM
she does not know when she halted. perhaps it had only been moments.
it was not some grand snapping out of it that conjured her to halt. only the need to look around. to make sure she was not missing anything in her frenzy.
like him.
it was not some grand snapping out of it that conjured her to halt. only the need to look around. to make sure she was not missing anything in her frenzy.
like him.
what're you lookin' at?out of breath and served with no shred of kindness around it.
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