Yours? [ like a little songbird, peeping and chirping her thoughts in some sort of an echo of someone else's. she treads nearer the table at the room's center, because that's where she believes the voice originates. ] Your very own?
[ how lovely it must be to own books -- even miserable ones. although she's always had access to fine libraries, they'd always belonged to her father. or the king. or sweetrobin. ]
no subject
[ how lovely it must be to own books -- even miserable ones. although she's always had access to fine libraries, they'd always belonged to her father. or the king. or sweetrobin. ]