Monday, November 23, 2009
Sheepish Children
Nym peaked back at Beranhond, looking rather like a beaten puppy, and smiled nervously. She seemed to have buried her thoughts on death and memories of her past as quickly as they'd welled up. She was playing with a rock she'd picked up off the floor, changing it's color and making fuzzy moss grow along it where she traced her finger. (Prestidigitation) What's a republic?
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