Northstar Vale i wouldn’t want my child married to a jailbird (dmn.)

there are so many rooms in this hotel full of mist, and she goes from room to room. the half-open doors show half-made beds and everywhere smells so strongly of living beings. activity. the cool winter air meeting the heat of cities— no wonder the fog was so persistent. 
jump to her weaving in between sweating willow trees. jump to the moment before she saw andraste looking like someone hanging off the 15th floor. 

designed like furniture straight out of the contemporary swedish catalogue. she's bone-white. she's four-legged and her arches go on forever. downturned everything. a reminder that gravity always wins. 

"astochía," she calls out softly. she's tempted to make the stupid infantile noises everyone does when trying to beckon a flighty but pretty animal. astynome could recognise a rough life. like reading tree rings, it only came with experience and practice. "i still do not know your name."