Awol.
Seeing as it’s the new year and all, I s’pose it’s only fair that I wipe the slate clean with a much needed sabbatical. My little flower girl isn’t easy to write like she used to be, and she certainly isn’t anywhere near as happy. It’s a shame really, especially since a handful of lovely people are willing to humour me, and a few new faces have extended the hand of friendship to try and attempt some form of interaction. I do feel like I’m being immensely rude for not trying to force it a little further, but alas, I think my muse is tired - although of what I’m not certain. She just can’t seem to form the necessary words these days; truthfully, neither can I.
Lucrecia is much easier to pen. Sarcasm and cynicism are far more forgiving to a battered old soul than perpetual sunshine. Ifalna even, seems to be remerging from her quiet confines in search of a proper voice. So I think largely from now on that’s where I’ll be. On the cantankerous lady of science CrystallineCrescent and on the clandestine hippy herself: MotherofSacrifice.
I’m sure Aerith will drag herself out of this muse-shaped rut eventually, but until she does, let’s just say she’s eloped with her menagerie of pets for an adventure laden holiday.






