Wapun Meadow victorian writer 2 steps away from dying of brain fever

ye think we’re good w this one
good thread! <3

It was good that one of their minds seemed to be more sounder than the other’s; sound enough to pull away from the orbit of ravenosity, and she felt the all too homespun, about girlish flush to her figure at that — lest either’d be drawn in the wake of ...well, their children romping not so far away.

So towards his other offer, she reined in the tempo of her ridiculous heart, set her slim, jaw and nodded. Business was good. Yes. “Y-yes. Let’s,” a thin little breath stuttered up her throat to clear it, and as to the remnants of the blaze he’d practically kissed to her throat ...oh, it’d flare up when she was sure he would return to them — that love and lust and each aspect in between.

But for now, as she fell into step along his sprig of olive, it ebbed into a simmer throughout her moon figure; and would lurk that way, awaiting him, as they rethreaded their way to their children and spoke of an accursed soul.