08-03-2021, 02:23 PM
(This post was last modified: 08-03-2021, 02:24 PM by Olive. Edited 1 time in total.)
The sylph had been having strange dreams, as of late. Her subconscious was restless, and at night it played. Her mind spun a beautiful kaleidoscope of colors, sometimes plotted against a storyline, sometimes not. Her waking hours were depleted, distracted, for this reason. She was grateful that it was the height of the year, and if she must wring the creakiness out of her sleepy bones, she could at least do it in the bright summerlight. She rose from her bed of waxy leaves and soft boughs and proceeded the yawn, stretch, and mull over the the voices that had risen from her subconscious while she slumbered.
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