A childlike mourning wells up in me, so I ignore my purpling hands A let myself stand out on the frozen lake just to mourn the end of Her, She who is the end to all.
Mourning Morana (The Death of Winter) Read More »
A swooning rocked through her chest, letting the music course over her skin as she sang along. “You can check in anytime you like, but you can never leave.” Fyrn’s hips swayed as she mumbled the melody. She dove into the malaise of smoke and noise in the dimly lit space, tension dissipating. The heat of her embarrassment faded under the pretense of having a good time, rather than care what her voice sounded like above the murmur of the crowd.
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