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Verses left unread
A writer meant to be a quiet dove, a devoted man willing to give anything for a glimpse of those verses left unread, and a heavy summer in the chaotic Beaulieu manor.
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Angharad
Please be kind, I just like to write my thoughts.
Stories
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When spring comes.
The people in this town were strange, strange in a way Y/n felt afraid of never understanding them; loud to each other, simple in their working lives, living too quickly for her taste. Y/n knows this by heart, every step she takes, everything everybody says, she knows it, because this is not her story, she knows the ending yet to come. But what is her purpose?
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