Redsand Canyon lómëar

she's fine! small post ehh

She, the only Weisse Frau to grace these red halls;
somewhere in shadows, in these very halls, there lives a wolf — a somnolent monster — and morn and eve he lurks.  ( Or, so she has heard. )  But it is not the rumblings of a behemoth that peals the late harvest air before her; instead, it is the trill of a younger soul; jade of eye and dark of hide, save for the argent lacing along forelimb. Altogether curious; the inked ears swept forth with it all. The stricken removes herself from the preening at perennial roots; instead donning the spectre of a smile upon marred lips, for she has long since felt the and it has taken season and seasons to go forth unruffled by such attentions.

“A most dreadful thing,”  the so-anointed madame wisps, enigma entire; cloudthick eyes linger upon the younger soul, the fathomless smile prancing upon features. Pearlmade claws kneading absently at clay, at roots,  “Unspeakable, really.”