Gyrfalcon's Keep window

she would do no disservice by trying to poorly pronounce the woman's title. it only mattered to know that this woman was a high priestess.

she thought of the toying we'eb she had left behind too — she did not miss him in a way beyond selfish indulgence.

i am burned in hot shame, asvoria. molded by it now in the tangles of her grief. a project of blown glass that felt prepared to shatter when things cooled. how can i be pleased of the things i was so easily pushed from? of what a husk of a woman i am?