Overture Downs I told you a lie, désolé, mon amour

bracken, was what she plainly offered back in an exchange of introductions. no names of homes or titles of her rank. she was only her.

kindness, kindness, kindness.

it continued to unravel her until she was practically a puddle on the ground. melted into it. her head along the ground, her gaze only for the frost and ash woman. her mood now hovered between embarrassed and smitten.

a bath.

that bad? she huffed in a humor that was borderline self-deprecation in its brand. yet she knew exactly how she looked right now. mud spiked fur, brambles surely tangled somewhere within the clumps too. she knew exactly that it was that bad even if she hoped desperately that it wasn't for her ego's sake.