An ornate and gold-edged book, of which inside are secrets even she doesn't know or understand. But tucked all through it are leaflets of paper, as if she'd rather not write in the book its self. Except on the first empty page of the book is written in exquisite, flowing penmanship her full name. ~ Lavender Cecelia Morgan.
Wednesday, 08 November 2017
In the absence of all the Fall Festivities fun, my life once again turns quiet, and lonely. Sometimes I wonder... should I have take Jobe up on his offer so long ago.. Or should I just pretend to be happy with one of the gentlemen that try so hard to get close to me..knowing it would not be fair to either of us.. just to end this agonizing loneliness and hole in my life? No... my pride and my heart demands more... for them and for myself, so I sit and look to the horizon, to ashamed of my past now to go hunt.. even the thought of hunting to plat farm makes me physically ill. I go to the inn occasionally and sit there.. or I go to one of my favorite spots in Caernivale and sit and watch the oceans ebb and flow. SOME times it's sound soothes my spirit. But most the time I find myself swinging away the marcs.. and dreaming of a life I fear I will never have.
