(no subject)
A flash of light glints off of sharp silver knitting needles in the hands of a motherly woman clad in white. Blodwen Rowlands is sitting in a corner booth, working diligently on something in magenta-- a scarf, evidently.
If there is a faint frown line between her brows as she works, well, it's probably of no importance. After all, what more difficulty could there be for her to dwell on here than a tangled knot of yarn?
If there is a faint frown line between her brows as she works, well, it's probably of no importance. After all, what more difficulty could there be for her to dwell on here than a tangled knot of yarn?