Northstar Vale zwilling

Sickening instinct dread;
it pockmarks her innards; creaks with an old and corrupted throat; the murkbreath of it churns the delicacy of her stomach over itself; tightens in her arid throat as her rosy nostrils pinch and flare in the half-panicked furling that is absolute aversion. She does not wish to see this one who has bit into her wavering heart but he has called, he has called! He has called and as ever the will of Undómiel is undone, desolate, devotional; lungs hitching, made to weave her way by evendim. The quiver was not entirely of nipping frost;
striding ever up through foothill and drifts, as before; assumes some guise of airy impassivity and cannot glean if he would pierce through that thin mothwing veiling. Disruption is an uninvited, unwanted, unwelcome bedfellow; despondency is a cooing lover, mouthing mournful upon hip; her very soul quails damp of this fetid horror; this uncertainty for she is only
dust!

Phlegmatic mondmädchen looks upon musiker and speaks not.