Horus π (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
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avalononline2021-11-17 12:21 pm
hor) wrote in avalononline2021-11-17 12:21 pm
text; un: π
βπ₯Άβπ₯Άβπ₯Άβπ₯Άβπ₯Άβπ₯Άβπ₯Άβπ₯Άβπ₯Άβπ₯Ά
I am stuck in my inn room by this white plague.
My own jewelry is so cold it burns my skin.
Attempted to build a fire, but the circle box on the ceiling began to screech deafeningly.
Someone give me a proper burial when this is over.
I am stuck in my inn room by this white plague.
My own jewelry is so cold it burns my skin.
Attempted to build a fire, but the circle box on the ceiling began to screech deafeningly.
Someone give me a proper burial when this is over.
no subject
[He treads at a brisk pace, thoughts already turning to what he needs to do once they make it to his household. The fire will need to be stoked, certainly. But their extremities concern him. Cups of tea to warm their hands. Tubs of warm water for their feet. What else...?
Blankets. They don't have many extra, but he can spare his own.]