[Her strength returned and her fondness for the fine arts gone south- likely for eternity -Etna's taken up sitting outside the open door to her room, holding a piece of scrap cloth over her mouth and nose. Coming from inside the room would be the overpowering smell of paint and ink, and should anyone look inside, the reason for such would be ( Read more... )

My strength has been drained today.
I feel powerless.
And yet, I can write quite well.

What is the cause of this stunt?
I can't lift a thing.
My spear sits lonely and cold.

I think I really hate this.
Haiku is no fun.
But I can't help myself- sigh.

Somebody please help me out.
Or not. I might just
Paint a picture instead.

(( Once an ass-kicking Demon Lord, she ( Read more... )