(no subject)
There was something about hard work. Something about it that made a woman feel like she was doing something with her life, and that's why Shadow was currently straddling a piece of wood as thick around as her thigh.
Emerging from it like she was freeing a form from imprisonment was a figurehead- a dryad, perhaps- a woman that was naked and twisted with vines, the rough form buried in wood shavings. She would be the front piece for a harp, would guide the musician to greatness.
But now, it was just an elf and her hard work in a clearing, the sound of the crickets mixing with the thready smoke coming from her fire.
Emerging from it like she was freeing a form from imprisonment was a figurehead- a dryad, perhaps- a woman that was naked and twisted with vines, the rough form buried in wood shavings. She would be the front piece for a harp, would guide the musician to greatness.
But now, it was just an elf and her hard work in a clearing, the sound of the crickets mixing with the thready smoke coming from her fire.