Whitebark Stream rotten apples

"I wish naught be a dream..~" Her words became clear- words she had spoken oh-so long ago, but felt stiffling to her own ears. Glass amongst the sands, the sophistication forcibly brought down to the Princess, a dream that sometimes still plagued her sweetened thoughts and twisted to even her words.. But not in the horrendous terror, but the devil was for herself, and herself to the nation. Let not the rotten fruit come through! Let thy' sweet red apples be to her death, and none to foreshadow her rotten teeth, for the sugar runs deep, too deep to forget what had been left behind, what she was okay leaving behind.

Though of course, words were a joke. She was never one to be as valiant as Valette, or as kingly as Greyback, she was the jester, "Ohhhh, waaaaitttt,~" sweetened words and drawled voices came to her warm chest, calling back the handsome male. Oh dear, she wouldn't want him to leave, now would she? "Staaaaaay.~" A childish plead, a demand to stay beside her in such a lonely night. She dreamed of warmth, and wouldn't the dream give her what she desired? Warmth of another beside, one she has not gotten before, but forcibly given. Asleep upon a mountain, and sat alongside the ladies, but none willfully came beside her, to talk, to cuddle.