Catchy Title
Phoebe Steadman
the Nightingale
Midwife

Age: 26 | Height: 5'9" | Race: Demi-god | Nationality: Outlander | Citizenship: Greatwood
Level: 5 - Strg: 32 - Dext: 46 - Endr: 41 - Luck: 41 - Int:
PIM - Mythical - Dragon (Electricity) BRANBAST - Mythical - Sear Cat (Speech)
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#43
I believe that the darkness reminds us where light can be
Phoebe sat up at the prompting and slowly rose to her feet. Fortunately all of her dresses had sizeable pockets, so she was able to hide her new toy from Frey away for the time being. A frown was set on her lips, her gaze seeming far and away. How had everything become so muddled and twisted? How had she been so blind as to miss it?

”I don’t really see how they are a strength at the moment, but I believe you.” she said softly. Her strong emotions were what got her here. They were what led her down this winding path of self-destruction to the lowest low she had ever felt. But she needed to keep moving forward. She couldn’t simply torture herself with the mistakes that led her here (though she might not try too hard to do that until the next day given the suddenness of these revelations). There was some saying about it not mattering how many times you fall but how many times you got back up – that seemed to be more the point Frey was trying to get at. ”Thank you, Frey. I’m…I’m sorry for being such a mess.” she said with a small smile at them. ”I will do my best to get things figured out.”
phoebe


Coding base by Sky!


Age: 7 | Height: | Race: Attuned | Nationality: Natural | Citizenship: Hollowed Grounds
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#44
"Well I should hope so flowerpetal. I do know a whole lot more than you." Frey said with a lazy shrug. Yawning slightly, they patted the midwife on the back as if she were a baby in need of a burp. "You're all messes. It was how you were made." They added.

"Now off you pop. You've a whole new life to get started." With a wink towards the pocket the the dildo had been placed in—it would grow weightier for a moment as if suddenly even more erect, before settling back—Frey would disappear in a honeysuckle and honey cloud of mist, leaving the midwife pleasantly refreshed in her post-orgasm state of hopefully new found clarity.
Frey


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