in a world where you can do anything: love
the honeysuckle princess
The midwife dared glance over at the honeybee girl. "It is the worst sort of grief, isn't it." she said softly, not a question, but a statement. Phoebe didn't need to ask to know it was true. For those you cared for to perish because you failed was a grief unlike any other. Her eyes fell again then to the basket in her hand, curling the edge to complete it and keep her work from unravelling. "I...I don't know. I wouldn't even know where to start." she said quietly. She had absolutely zero combat knowledge. It was the sort of thing she had actively avoided. Where did one begin to fight with more pointed effort than hacking and slashing on instinct alone?
PHOEBE
