Mildew
I don't think there is anyone under your skin
Like a Cheshire cat I think that you are just a grin
The cold stone and gravel beneath her feet felt distinctly strange to Mildew, who was used to dirt and mud; had grown to know just by the feel of the leaves under her toes what seasonal changes were coming - this place felt lifeless in comparison, eerily quiet and constructed. The silhouette of Stormbreak in the mist didn't help either, Mildew finding the structures to be intimidating and ugly, far from the beauty that had been promised.
Maybe she had to be more open minded; this was apparently somewhere the Gods liked very much.
With a sigh, Mildew pulled her hair over her shoulders and tied it back behind herself, looking to any passersby like a wild child in way over her head; muddy and scruffy, in many-times-patched clothes and no shoes, no one would guess she was a being centuries older than them. "I suppose I'll have to just go in." She mumbled to herself, beginning to take steps towards the city again.
Maybe she had to be more open minded; this was apparently somewhere the Gods liked very much.
With a sigh, Mildew pulled her hair over her shoulders and tied it back behind herself, looking to any passersby like a wild child in way over her head; muddy and scruffy, in many-times-patched clothes and no shoes, no one would guess she was a being centuries older than them. "I suppose I'll have to just go in." She mumbled to herself, beginning to take steps towards the city again.
And I can feel you laughing, under my skin
And the happy palpitations are making me grin
