Cordelia
let us go
where the wild things grows
where the wild things grows
Cordelia slips through the people, a basket of supplies in the crook of her arm, boots crunching through the snow as she presses forward. The wind bites at her skin, lessened by the buildings, but cutting none the less. She tugs her hood up a bit more around her face, blinking through the bit of snow that falls and clings to her lashes. Finally she reaches the building she's looking for, pulling open the door and quickly darting inside, knowing better than to let the warmth inside out.
She finds an empty table to work out, setting her basket down and carefully laying out the supplies she brought with her for her lantern. Not paying much mind to those around her as she sets to work.
She finds an empty table to work out, setting her basket down and carefully laying out the supplies she brought with her for her lantern. Not paying much mind to those around her as she sets to work.
let us go
where time runs slow
where time runs slow