Maeve
We'll never get free
Lamb to the slaughter
Lamb to the slaughter
It's late and typically people might find the fact that someone gardening this late at night was counterproductive. Most of those people would be right. If it wasn't for the fact that this garden thrives at night. The best time for the Nightshade to toil away was in the moonlight that streamed from above, causing her pale skin to glow almost in the same ethereal nature of the blooms that surround her. The only real noise filling the room comes from the flow of the fountain and the waves in the distance, her soft humming mingling with both as she uses her spade to create a small hole for the new seedlings she's been growing, slipping it gently inside.
Aidon dozes attop one of the pillars, smoke curling lazily from his nose, quiet rumbling snores reaching her where she's knelt in the soil. Her skirt rucked up around her knees, feet bare, and fingers coated in the dark soil she's digging in.
Aidon dozes attop one of the pillars, smoke curling lazily from his nose, quiet rumbling snores reaching her where she's knelt in the soil. Her skirt rucked up around her knees, feet bare, and fingers coated in the dark soil she's digging in.
What you gon' do when there's blood in the water?
