Sunbeam Lair bez snu mnie wyśnij

sure <3

"They are not mine to tell,"  impling of hauntcraft and elfin simpers,  "for they are two, and there is only one who has known myself beneath each. He is enamored with ze first, if you should know  —  though I, however,"  the fée so deigns to purl,  "rather much prefer ze second,"  and finally faces about once more with a look of some mirthful-making mischief. This ashen Awol is charming, she supposes;
in that allegiant and unwavering way, with his little promises and his drawn brow and his jaw set with gracious earnestness; the fairylight delights in it all to near dimpling, and for now witholds the stonewalled name of he who has remade her and dismantled her and knows of each name and more and more and more. Instead, she allows her mind to again alight upon the hunt that is to be had:

"I find that she is weak, when one's weight is administered upon her shoulders,"  and informs of such by stepping ever nearer, so that the unassuming pink of her nose might touch featherish the inked hackles; letting the pale of her ribs catch along his own,  "weak, and wrathful. If ever yours should have ze misfortune to be set upon by her, I suggest that you be three steps ahead."