Hushed Willows There's a warning written in the corners of your face

I'd love a @John while the group is here!

Reverie was beginning to feel — neglected. And she knew that was unfair of her; a product of the ever-present paranoia that plagued her daily, a projection of past hurts that had never quite faded. By now she'd learned to ignore the feeling. But that didn't make it sting any less.

Bitterness lingered on her lips, and so she sought time away to clear her head. Reverie instead turned her attentions to the little group in their home, their needs, their sadness. She hunted for them here and there. And today she sought the man, the one who had reminded her for a moment of Lestan. He was pretty too, in his own way. But Reverie was beginning to sour on the appeals of men. It was with a host's hospitality that she approached him now, nothing more.