Date: 2021-04-29 03:25 pm (UTC)
coquettish_trees: (considering cloak)
I let myself believe that I, a Comte’s fifth daughter, was the grand heroine of a tale.

I was a fool to want so much to be such a one, to be loved as one, and for the crime of my foolishness I deserved my betrayal; he was a monster, yes, but were I honest, it should not have happened so.

[ She doesn’t believe it anymore, but even now that disbelief is so fragile that for a brief flash of a moment, in saying it, part of her does. ]
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Byerly Vlad Rutyer

September 2022

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