Post by machiavelli rousseau on Nov 25, 2011 11:15:34 GMT -5
Machiavelli found that she couldn't control the ripples in space. She could feel them twisting around her, pulling her every which way; She had been walking through the moors of the English countryside when she heard pan pipes playing. Softly and sweetly, they beckoned her carrying her footsteps towards a small wood in the distance. She found herself on the shores of a lake nestled in a thicket.
She stared at the lake, the clear blue waters twinkling in the setting sun. The wood was cast in golden shadow, and there was a looming feeling that she was being watched.
She stared at the lake, the clear blue waters twinkling in the setting sun. The wood was cast in golden shadow, and there was a looming feeling that she was being watched.
