Fairspell Meadow of little wings of white-flamed butterflies in my brain
"You must make a friend of horror and of mortal terror."
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Ooc — Jitterwater
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#4
Sorry this is late and small :(


She was speaking. Talking about the future, about finding shelter. There was nothing here but storm clouds and grass, though - and Sobek looked to the sky as if to glare, maybe even to shout at the clouds, but the feeling passed him by quickly enough. He was left feeling cold and uncomfortable and the emotion he might've employed didn't take root, melting from him. He chose instead to double back to where his mother was, and upon doing so he crowded against her and walked in tandem, silent.
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RE: of little wings of white-flamed butterflies in my brain - by RIP Sobek - October 27, 2019, 04:35 PM