longnight The lonely luxere outside stopped her crunching. Something approached though nothing moved. It was darker (or was her glow perhaps softening)? Hastily she turned, a soft bellow blooming from her nose. Scratch, scratch, scratch. Did you know that the sound of a branch against the window makes precisely the same sound as a bouquet made out of the bones of children's fingers, does? LongNight is a time for learning, as much as it is a time for death. |
(SEASONAL EVENT) Guardian (OPEN)
|
|
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
|
Users browsing this thread: 1 Guest(s)