My hands don't wanna start again, they don't wanna understand
WHO: Laksha {enchantedimsure} and King Alistair {opentheworld}
WHAT: Quick!Log; A Night Discussion
WHERE: The Palace Hallways
WHEN: The Night after Maron's Defeat
[Night had long fallen now, but the light and crash of the storm's violent thunder remained in the enchantress' mind. This was not the first time that the sorceress had stained her hands with blood, but this instance had meaning- this time she had not meant to harm the young, brash archer who had filled the air with bullets and laughter. Laksha sat at her dressing-table in her white bedroom, grooming her hair with a fine ivory hairbrush. A hundred strokes for each lock, but she had lost count long ago. Tugging a robe over her delicate lace nightgown, Laksha took her staff and exited her room to pace the halls. It was doubtful she would grasp any sleep tonight. She had heard that Roy had a daughter- in the quiet of the hall, she prayed continually that she had returned him home to his little girl.]
WHAT: Quick!Log; A Night Discussion
WHERE: The Palace Hallways
WHEN: The Night after Maron's Defeat
[Night had long fallen now, but the light and crash of the storm's violent thunder remained in the enchantress' mind. This was not the first time that the sorceress had stained her hands with blood, but this instance had meaning- this time she had not meant to harm the young, brash archer who had filled the air with bullets and laughter. Laksha sat at her dressing-table in her white bedroom, grooming her hair with a fine ivory hairbrush. A hundred strokes for each lock, but she had lost count long ago. Tugging a robe over her delicate lace nightgown, Laksha took her staff and exited her room to pace the halls. It was doubtful she would grasp any sleep tonight. She had heard that Roy had a daughter- in the quiet of the hall, she prayed continually that she had returned him home to his little girl.]