Maeve
It hits her square in the gut, stealing her breath and the heat in her cheeks. The chill is obvious. Death. It sinks into her being from the close proximity to the otherwise plain box. She takes a step back without realizing it, the fear forcing her away and instead she's drawn towards another. Sweet smelling florals fill her nose and her eyes drift towards the humming red box instead.
It reminds her of the garden. Her room. Safety. Warmth fills her again and she draws in a much needed breath. Maeve moves towards that box instead, uncaring if the Table is unhappy with her decision. This feels better. It feels right.
Maeve moves to the red humming box instead.
It reminds her of the garden. Her room. Safety. Warmth fills her again and she draws in a much needed breath. Maeve moves towards that box instead, uncaring if the Table is unhappy with her decision. This feels better. It feels right.
Maeve moves to the red humming box instead.
With her sweetened breath, and her tongue so mean
She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene
She's the angel of small death and the codeine scene
