Farrow
Farrow nodded, a small, melancholy smile turning the corners of her lips. "That's what my mother told me. I never really believed her though." A darkness fell over Farrow's bright eyes for just a moment before she gasped and grabbed at a small journal she kept buckled to her belt and pulled a small pencil from behind her ear, hidden, until this point, by her hair. She scribbled quickly on a fresh page, though the paper itself was a dusty color and thick, like she had pressed it herself.
"Sorry," Farrow said, glancing up at Phoebe with an apologetic smile, "I have a penchant for forgetting small things. I wanna wrote this down before I forget it."
Farrow muttered Phoebe's instructions as she wrote them down in her chicken scratch. Her journal was full of barely legible writing, almost only able to be read by its writer.
"Sorry," Farrow said, glancing up at Phoebe with an apologetic smile, "I have a penchant for forgetting small things. I wanna wrote this down before I forget it."
Farrow muttered Phoebe's instructions as she wrote them down in her chicken scratch. Her journal was full of barely legible writing, almost only able to be read by its writer.
When in doubt, use nettles
