"She shrugs. Ketterdam is the ill-fitting thing now. A second skin she can't quite shake. “It was good. But it was different.”
“What she really wants to tell him about is that there was a copse of lightning-struck blackwood trees by the encampment, that her mother swore to her that during the summertime they’d been choking with triumphant white blooms. And at the same time she wants to tell him none of it"
I was a materialki for @lycanwing ‘s incredible fic will you know when you see it (x), and please also check out my fellow incredible gang artists @homicide-depot (x) and @two-ndborne (x) and their artworks. Please check out everyone involved! (Links tba)