(no subject)
Cywyllog enters the bar slowly tonight. She's dressed only in her nightgown and a robe, with bare feet. She had planned on heading to the courtyard for some air, but Milliways will do instead, she supposes.
She doesn't care how she looks anymore. She's been made to attend dinner with her split lip and bruises and she figures her humilation can't get any worse.
A cup of tea is ordered and then she curls up on a couch, staring blankly at the fire.
She doesn't care how she looks anymore. She's been made to attend dinner with her split lip and bruises and she figures her humilation can't get any worse.
A cup of tea is ordered and then she curls up on a couch, staring blankly at the fire.