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i will lay me down; ravenelle at dusk
Topic Started: Oct 16 2014, 10:14 PM (287 Views)
Ryn
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ravenelle


The soft hues of dusk settled quietly over the land. This land was quiet, gentle, a place for mares. But it was cold, and it was certainly lonely- which gave stallions an advantage. It was not for equines to be cold and lonely. Other creatures might find some joy in their solitary state. Those who met only to mate, produce and raise heirs, and send them on to live their own lives of relative solitude. It was not for equines, though, ravenelle knew. Herd animals need socialization, companionship and conversation. And so, it was not for equines to be lonely. All things had a purpose, ravenelle believed, and all things work towards that purpose. For ravenelle, her purpose was to continue learning and try to understand those things which truly baffle the mind.

ravenelle knew that this land of the homeless had mares seeking homes and stallions seeking mares. These two goals seemed different, but really, it made sense. A mare’s home is her stallion while a stallion’s home is the land he claimed and maintained. He protected it, he patrolled it, and he produced heirs to inherit it upon his natural demise. It was not so for mares. Mares instead must find a good stallion to follow. One who shares her values and provides for her, both physically and emotionally. And he becomes her home, for the land he works so hard for he shares with her. Or so ravenelle thought. Truly, she did not know. Aside from her father’s little herd, Ravenelle had not spent time with an established group. She didn’t understand how it was in a proper herd.

But, she would like to understand. As she shifted from one slender white leg to the other, ravenelle knew she was very ignorant, and wanted experience and practical knowledge to help her continue thinking. She wanted no tyrants, no hormone crazed stallion who saw her as nothing but a broadmare. She wanted a gentle mind, a caring yet strong leader who would see her as an asset to his herd. And so the evening found her waiting, the little maiden mare, in this strange land of desire and acquisition. Her dainty face turned to the right and to the left, scoping out her surroundings. It appeared to be safe enough. Her warm brown eyes were bright and clear, ears pricked, as she tried to say alert to all her surroundings. The bay overo form settled into a comfortable position as she waited to see if a suitor might approach.
Edited by Ryn, Oct 16 2014, 10:25 PM.
Ryn
Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit


ravenelle tamsyn
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A E S O N.

I’ve been in the Homeless grounds for a few days now, nearing a week. Don’t ask me why—I don’t even know. I had wandered here on a whim, on a chance (just like every other time), and instead of returning straight to my land, I had lingered here for a short while. I plan on returning soon of course—I don’t want to leave Dittany and my land alone for longer than I must—but after leaving the Towers’ hallowed borders, I had found that I needed some sort of reprieve. Not that it is any real reprieve here. With the masses of milling equines, most desperate and rash, and some even wild for attention, this land holds the heavy stench of loneliness—perhaps even sorrow in some cases.

I heave a heavy sigh through my dark nostrils, shaking my head once, which causes the parts of odd formations in my black mane to wave from side to side before settling again. I amble along the outskirts of the Homeless grounds, shuffling my hooves through the powdery snow in an easy, measured stroll. This is where I have lingered in the past few days, in everyone else’s periphery. It is quiet now though, much to my good fortune, even if I know that it will only last until Prime rises again to light the morning. Dusk colors the clear winter sky, casting the simple terrain in gentle hues of purples, reds, and golds, leaving everything in a calm haze.

It is much different from the bustling chaos that had inhabited this place for most of the morning and afternoon. I can’t help but smile at the serenity of it all--the firm line of my lips softening at the corners as my brown gaze trails to the sunset. It is beautiful, but it does not compare to the sunsets of the Towers. I am blessed to have such a sacred land as my home, I am well aware of this, and desperately hope not to betray its revered name.

Movement out of the corner of my eye suddenly steals my attention, and pricking my ears towards the source, my eyes wander to the figure of a mare. She is very beautiful, resting her slender body with a calm alertness as she waits—undoubtedly expecting the flock of suitors that will come to her silent call. I watch her for a short moment, debating. Most of the mares have gone by now, either having satisfied their search or too afraid to pursue their quest in the shadows of night (as is evident in the apparent emptiness of the snow-covered landscape). This mare is either brave or foolish—there are monsters that lurk here, be it equine or any other mysterious creatures.

Pursing my lips and flicking the length of my long tail, I decide to approach her, extending one of my black-banded forelegs and ambling almost purposefully in her direction. If I was more of the pretentious type, I would probably consider myself a hero in moments similar to this. Saving unsuspecting damsels in distress, whisking them away from the greedy jaws of the wicked and vile shadows, carrying them away to safety. But, I am hardly one for such ridiculous fanfare. I am no hero, after all—far from it. Still, I’d like to think that I am not from the same material as those like my infamous father. I try to keep telling myself that, anyway.

Clearing my throat softly as I near the painted bay mare, to alert her of my presence if she hasn’t spotted me already, I settle in front of her. “Hello,” I offer her a curt nod of my head and a fleeting smile, “I am Aeson.” I pause for a moment; not nervous, just, well...awkward, honestly. Quite the charmer, aren’t I? A total hero. Ha. “What is your name?” I continue after a few breaths...hoping I don’t sound too bumbling or ridiculous. I breathe out heavily through my nostrils, giving her another short smile, though it fades quickly.

I keep running into walls that I can't break down —
Let me out of this dream.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

ZEBROID HYBRID STALLION | THE WEEPING TOWERS | EIGHT YEARS OLD | SEAL BAY WITH BROWN EYES | NEUTRAL | 16HH
rowan x siason
Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum!
#EpicStrut

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Ryn
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ravenelle

Prime continued to sink in the sky, which caused Ravenelle to worry. She knew she really should find shelter, hide herself away from the less savory creatures who awoke when the sky was dark. But for now, the colors were simply too brilliant as Prime descended out of equine sight. The light snow covering all gave the scene an air of peace and calm. Everything was absolutely silent and still, the air smelled clean and cold, the particular scent that snow brings to a scenery. Ravenelle’s instincts told her to move, get out of the open and brace for the coming dark. But, the mare knew twilight would come after the sunset, so she remained to watch the brilliance that came with the transition from day to night.

Ravenelle can sense the male moving through the land previously so still. His step is magnified by the snow at his feet, making it easily detectable to her alert ears. She does not allow her head to turn, keeps her ears determinedly pointed towards the sunset as she looks away from this stranger. She has a clear sense that she is the last one left of the day, though that isn’t necessarily the case. Really, she is the first to arrive for tomorrow. He, too, should be gone by now, welcoming his new conquests to his home. Unless, for some reason, he has not won any mares here today.

Continuing to ignore the suitor, Ravenelle inhales deeply to brace herself. There is potential, here, for an understanding and intelligent stallion. But her reason reminds her that there is also potential for a stallion like her sire, arrogant and elitist. This is why she guards her gaze so carefully and keeps her emotions in check. She needs to protect herself from yet another ignorant brute.

He clears his throat- demanding her attention? Alerting her to his presence? Something in his gullet which needed removing? One can only guess, and now Ravenelle relents and gives him her attention. She nearly smiles when she sees the apprehension, the downright awkwardness in the eyes of this brute. He smiles slightly and introduces himself. Aeson. Long tailed, black bands on his legs, rather handsome, but definitely unsure of himself. Good, thought Ravenelle. I have seen enough of pride. She returns the smile, listens to him ask her name, and watches his exhale followed by another grin. He positively did not know what to do with himself. There was nothing he could do that would endear himself to the maiden more, since after all, understanding that you know nothing is the first step to knowledge. Uncertainty is good.

“Good Evening, Aeson.” Ravenelle said in her light voice, flashing a more confident smile. She holds herself like a queen, a product of her breeding, and can hide her own uncertainty due to long years of practice. Arabian tail held high, dished face dipping to return the stallion’s polite gesture. “I am Ravenelle. Lovely night we are about to have, no?” she said, turning her gaze back to Prime. More than half gone now, true night would be coming fast. The little mare awaited her new acquaintance's response.
Ryn
Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit


ravenelle tamsyn
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A E S O N.

I don’t think I could feel more awkward and clumsy in front of this pretty mare than I do right now. Of course, I have said that many times before, and have invariably proven myself wrong. Over and over again. So, trying to not dwell too hard on such thoughts, I force them away and direct my attentions on the mare. What’s done is done, first impressions have already passed, and I can only hope that I have not made a complete fool of myself already. Fortunately, she doesn’t seem irritated, confused, or scared at my less-than-charming approach, so I take it all as a good sign.

My gaze rests on her evenly, my fluted ears perking forward when she speaks, greeting me. Her voice is light and friendly, but not bubbly or overly enthusiastic; immediately I get the distinct impression that this mare is quite confident…but perhaps not arrogant. No, I haven’t sensed any kind of high-mindedness from this one yet. Her posture and expression are royal, proud, and noble—after a moment I think of Dittany, who holds herself in much the same way. I refrain from chuckling to myself. What is it with these small mares being so stately? It is quite amusing, if not a bit intimidating at first (seeing as I’m far from regal myself), but I appreciate their confidence nonetheless. Heaven knows I could use more of it.

A soft, fleeting smile flits favorably across my dark lips just as the bay Arabian continues. She introduces herself as Ravenelle. Ravenelle, wow—a pretty name to match a pretty face, I suppose is how it is supposed to work. Perhaps a more charismatic stallion would offer such a compliment aloud, but I keep it to myself, tucking it away with my quiet smile before my brown gaze follows hers to the sunset. It is beautiful indeed. Prime’s blushing rays throwing out glowing hues of reds and golds across the wintry horizon; it is a lovely farewell, probably too beautiful in a land like this. Flicking the length of my black tail around my faintly-striped flanks, I release a low sigh that escapes in white smoke from my lips.

“I sure hope so, Ravenelle,” I muse, my eyes narrowing briefly before they flick quickly back to the mare’s blazed face. “I mean—you can never guess what comes out at night, what creatures are kept at bay with Prime’s light…It will be a lovely evening though, I’m sure,” I nearly mumble at the end, biting my lip for a second and looking back again to the sunset, embarrassed all over again. I swear, I’m not really that dark or anything, but it is true. Creatures come with the shadows. Of course, I could slyly pull the ‘No need to fear! I’ll protect you!’ charade now, because I would, but again with the lack of flourishing charm in me. Oh well.

Huffing out a heavy exhale through my nostrils, I slowly look back again to Ravenelle. The fading light plays across the fine planes of her face, catching the redness in her bay hide and bringing it out—it is very pretty. “So, have you been here long?” It is a miserable question, I know, but I just can’t leave it at that wretched muttering of my tongue-tied display earlier. I want to kick myself just thinking about it. But instead I wait silently for her response, only probing lightly in order to get to know her; that’s why we’re here, right? After all, I won’t leave her, at least not until she finds a suitable stallion to look after her. Unless she asks to leave, of course—I don’t want to get all creepy-stalker on someone.

I keep running into walls that I can't break down —
Let me out of this dream.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

ZEBROID HYBRID STALLION | THE WEEPING TOWERS | EIGHT YEARS OLD | SEAL BAY WITH BROWN EYES | NEUTRAL | 16HH
rowan x siason
Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum!
#EpicStrut

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Ryn
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ravenelle

When Ravenelle wandered around after leaving her father’s herd, she traveled with mostly rogue horses to learn about their experiences and lives. From this time, she learned that confidence was definitely a fake-it-till-you-make-it endeavor. No matter how you felt on the inside, it was almost easy to pretend to confidence even when it had not been breed into you. Seeing this stallion, this Aeson, allowing himself to show his awkwardness, being vulnerable, was something quite different. It made Ravenelle smile to see him showing emotions and just generally being more open than just about every equine she had ever met.

He is also very handsome, which doesn’t hurt. Strong form with those unique stripes- not something an everyday equine would have. He was certainly a different kind of beast than the ones she had met before. It fascinated her, really, how he could be comfortable in front of someone he had just met. It was never something that Ravenelle had been able to do, being raised in a herd where keeping up appearances and hiding your emotions was crucial to survival and mental health. Now she was learning what qualities she valued in an equine and this openness was definitely one of them.

He speaks, noting the possibility of danger in the ever decreasing light. Ravenelle nodded, and decided to lightly tease the gentle brute. “Of course, there may be a danger in this dark, Aeson, but I know you are a big, strong stallion and these legs of mine are good for more than just aesthetics, you know.” Arabians were known for their speed, and Ravenelle knew she was particularly fast. But really, she saw him taking on the protector role, so she felt the need to make a little joke about it. There was danger in the darkness, to be sure, but Ravenelle was almost foolish in her lack of fear. The night was dark and full of terrors, but a strong stallion and a nimble mare had the potential to survive them.

He exhales once again, as she looks into his eyes. For once, she let herself think about the reality of the decision. To belong to someone else instead of yourself, to really be apart of a group instead of just an individual. Really, it was a crazy thing to do. Yet it seemed natural to Ravenelle now, and that she would like to spend her time with equines who she cared about-even loved-instead of just alone. Even at the sacrifice of her independence.

“Not very long at all. I had hardly arrived before you came to begin talking to me. And yourself? Have you been here long?” She responded. Of course, the question was a cliche. It would be interesting, though, to learn more about Aeson, his land and his mares. Informed decisions were important before she would take that crucial next step and actually journey to the place that the striped brute called home.
Ryn
Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit


ravenelle tamsyn
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OOC: One thing I love about posting this guy is that I can put just about anything in here that pops into my mind, so yeah, I apologize for that xD
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A E S O N.

One of my fluted ears rotates forward in the mare’s direction, while the other hangs more to the side, a silent sign of my mild humiliation. She seems to agree with my earlier statement that I had oh-so charmingly blurted out, but I wait for a moment, not allowing myself to get my hopes up. After all, there is still plenty of time to make a fool of myself even more—the night isn’t over yet, and I wouldn’t put it past myself. Not for the first time, I am reminded why I am not fond of these games (for they are games, no matter how others try to romanticize this process); but that thought is quickly followed by the prompt that it must begin somewhere. Not everything can be easy and idealistic.

Mentally (dramatically) sighing to myself, my thoughts are brought sharply back as Ravenelle’s soprano voice reaches my ears. I can’t help but puff up a little with her compliment—one side of my brow rising as though to lightheartedly question mock intentions behind the praise—but I am quickly embarrassed all over again by the time her playful statement closes. I chuckle, and while the deep sound is humorous, it is also tinged with a nervous tension. I appreciate her good-natured comedy, I really do. But, I mean come on, how could I not be a little uncomfortable with being “called out,” so to speak? She is very pleasing to the eye, I’m sure any stallion would agree.

Still, I hope she doesn’t assume that’s why I approached her, because it’s not. If I were to be brutally honest with her, then I could assure her that my hormones don’t control my thoughts—I’m over eight years old and still a virgin, for crying out loud! That’s almost unheard of these days…or at least in my father’s family (whose hormones seemed to develop much faster than their brains). Fortunately, I am not that dim-witted to make such an embarrassing claim to the bay mare—now that would be utterly humiliating. Mortifying, indeed. My chuckle lingers, and I shake my head, looking to Ravenelle. “I don’t doubt it,” is all I say, shaking my head with a repressed grin.

Reassured by the idea that I have caught myself before blurting for once, I relax a little as the painted Arabian continues. She hadn’t been here long before I had arrived, which is always a bonus for myself. “Well, I’m glad that I caught you before you had a Casanova to compare me to,” I joke back at her, a smile flitting shortly across my lips before they fall back into a comfortable line. I know I’m no Casanova, or Romeo—at least not your average heartbreaker. Just an awkward one.

Flicking the length of my black tail through the wintry twilight, I part my lips again after swallowing. “I have been here a few days, wandering here and there. I intend to return home soon,” I nod my head once in agreement with my words, “I come from The Weeping Towers, in the Offland. It is a very beautiful and very plentiful land—I wouldn’t trade it for any other territory,” I speak proudly and reverently of the Towers—its hallowed borders are a coveted thing among many. Its beauty is truly above anything I have ever seen, and I find it all far too sacred to cheapen with lengthy words. I have no doubt in my mind that Ravenelle would agree, if she should ever see it.

I keep running into walls that I can't break down —
Let me out of this dream.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

ZEBROID HYBRID STALLION | THE WEEPING TOWERS | EIGHT YEARS OLD | SEAL BAY WITH BROWN EYES | NEUTRAL | 16HH
rowan x siason
Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum!
#EpicStrut

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Ryn
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ravenelle

Ravenelle rarely felt as unsure of herself as she did now-but surrey that was a natural consequence of this place. It was hard to take risks like this, especially since her whole life had been relatively low risk. Now it was near time to make her choice and Ravenelle was thinking logically. A stable place to live with a stallion who was opened himself up to her ever so slightly was better than anything she had come across thus far. She was definitely leaving the homeless lands sooner rather than later as the darkness encroached over the unremarkable landscape of the Homeless territory.

Unfortunately, Ravenelle was not sure exactly how to comport herself around a stallion who did not believe the world revolved around him. Her past experience had only included stallions who knew of her impressive breeding and upbringing in her past herd. She was graceful, well built and charming to their strong, unfeeling gaze. Now she was faced with this totally foreign concepts of behavior and decorum just doesn’t seem to apply anymore So she would continue, proceeding only with kindness, respect and honesty since her humor did not seem to please him like it had pleased others before. That was okay.

He shakes his head as he responds to her joke, and she smiles softly in reply. Then, to Ravenelle’s surprise, he jokes right back at her. This was pleasing to Ravenelle, since it was impossible to be serious all the time. His humor is self-deprecating, which is something she had never experienced from a stallion before. She decided to respond with a gentle compliment. “ I have seen enough of Casanovas but I have not seen many like you before, Aeson.” A little serious, but necessary to help explain what had occurred before in her jest- a happy resolution to the whole situation.

She hears his plans to return to his home and knows it is getting close to the time for her to decide. Weeping Towers in Offland- it sounds a lovely place. He seems very attached to it- so much so he does not feel the need to describe it in detail. It is intriguing to the little maiden, whose ears have been intently listening each word to fall of the brindle brute’s lips. A desire to see these lands of such plenty and a desire to continue her acquaintance with Aeson motivate the damsel to ask her next question. “Your lands sound very unique. Is it possible that I might see them?” A risk, she knew, to put herself out there like this. However, the night was truly closing in now, and Ravenelle knew what she wanted now. It made sense to act on it.
Ryn
Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit


ravenelle tamsyn
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A E S O N.

Ravenelle’s following compliment is not as light as the first, but she is obviously sincere and I appreciate her praise with a soft smile that hovers momentarily over my dark lips. I suppose that is a good thing, right? That she has not seen many like me? Of course, I know that the black Zebra stripes that band my body are certainly not the most common around here, being a large mark of my father’s heritage, but I get the impression that she is not referring to my atypical appearance. I have to make an impression some way, right? I may not be the handsome prince charming to sweep her off her feet, but I have every intention to give her a home and safety. It’s nice to know Ravenelle is not so shallow like some others.

I arch my muscled neck with more might and pride than I possess, flicking my ears forward and resting a hind leg comfortably in the winter snow, my strong hips dipping sharply to one side as I do so. However, hardly even a minute passes before the painted bay mare continues, and her words catch me off guard. One of my ears tilts to the side in a short moment of confusion (and shock, let’s be honest here), though I, thankfully, manage to compose myself before making myself into a fool all over again and quite possibly ruining everything. “Thank you, Ravenelle,” I respond to her compliment of the Towers, giving her another skewed, bashful smile.

“It is very possible,” I go on, hesitating for a second as I inhale a cold breath, “if you would like to return with me.” My brown eyes rest on her almost intently, hoping that I haven’t been too bold—but then again, she had been bold herself, hadn’t she? Still, I wouldn’t put it past myself to screw this whole thing up at the last possible moment. And as if to emphasize my thoughts, I babble on after shifting my weight again to all of my hooves. “I mean—it’s not like I wouldn’t let you see the Towers if you didn’t want to stay…but, you are invited to stay,” ha, there we go—me rambling on again. The last thing I want to do is make her feel pressured, but I want her to know that she is welcome to make the Towers her home, if she so desires.

I keep running into walls that I can't break down —
Let me out of this dream.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

ZEBROID HYBRID STALLION | THE WEEPING TOWERS | EIGHT YEARS OLD | SEAL BAY WITH BROWN EYES | NEUTRAL | 16HH
rowan x siason
Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum!
#EpicStrut

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Ryn
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Ravenelle

Standing regally, as is her habit, Ravenelle worries she has been too forward with this brute. There is an expected code of conduct, she knew all too well. The males must be in control, the males must make compliments and the males are the ones who make the invitations to their homes. She might scare him away with her unladylike conduct, which would be a considerable shame. The painted damsel had quickly developed a fondness for this acquaintance. She really did believe that she would enjoy getting to know him better and she would love to go to these lands he seemed to love.

His posture changes as he thanks her for her appraisal of his lands. “You are most welcome, Aeson.” His smile is contagious, and she cannot help but smile in return. She casts her eyes down a moment, shyly, before lifting them back the striped stallion before her. Throughout her travels, he was the first she’d met who had such open frankness and genuine speech. To be honest, Ravenelle was hoping for a welcoming response more than was probably proper. Eagerness was not something a quality equine displays, her mother would say. Right now, Ravenelle couldn’t care less about that particular rule.

Finally, he answers her bold inquiry. She is relieved to hear him invite her to return with him, and then hesitate in characteristic fashion. She grinned once more to hear him stutter through a response inviting her not only to visit, but to stay in the Towers. Her brown eyes warmed at the thought, and she waited for him to conclude before beginning to make her reply. “Oh, I think I would like to stay. If, if you don’t mind, really, that is.” The lack of confidence was not usual to the mare, but she was unable to boldly accept this stallion. It was too important to chance a rejection.

ooc: thank you for understanding :) sorry this is wicked late
Ryn
Forsan et haec olim meminisse iuvabit


ravenelle tamsyn
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I think everybody's nuts.
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________________________________________________________________________________ A E S O N
Let me out of this dream . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

I manage to refrain from shuffling my weight as I wait for the painted mare’s answer, hoping that
I had not been too bold myself. She practically invited herself to come back to the Towers, right?
So I should have nothing to worry about, right? Ha, like that could ever be true for someone like
myself. Still, I manage to look relatively normal, my expression neutral and body somewhat relaxed.
Fortunately, Ravenelle doesn’t take long to reply, my ears perking forward to catch her words—her
uncertainty is practicing singing in my ears. I tilt my head to the side a little bit, my features warming
into a smile. “Of course I don’t mind, Ravenelle,” I arch my muscled neck and dip my head to her,
“follow me.” I try not to act too ridiculous, but I’m obviously excited. There is a spring in my step
and my lips are softened as I lead her back to the Towers.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
‘I can't turn this around, I keep running into walls that I can't break down —
LET ME OUT OF THIS DREAM.’



OOC: Woot! Yay! And no worries! Do you want a topic for them in The Weeping Towers? I don’t care who starts it ^^

Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum!
#EpicStrut

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