[ it is night like many others. morgana does not sleep, she cannot sleep, her eyes close and nightmares threaten to tear at her mind. so she sits awake in her room, a platter of fruit sitting upon the table with the curtains thrown open. to watch the rain. to await the morning of the day.
she wills it to come faster, it does not. the rain continues and darkness does to budge.
frustrated she takes an apple and a knife and begins to cut smalls sharps into the deep red skin. ignoring how homesick the activity makes her feel. ]
backdated to the 12th. (shh pretend this isn't hideously late)
she wills it to come faster, it does not. the rain continues and darkness does to budge.
frustrated she takes an apple and a knife and begins to cut smalls sharps into the deep red skin. ignoring how homesick the activity makes her feel. ]