piano joint

Hello angels! We’re so excited to have you all here and we’re going to kick our buzz off with intros! Just fill out the intro form below, and post it in our tag ( #halfmoonrp )! If you’ve posted an intro, when we open reserves, you’ll automatically have one spot waiting for you ❤️

Spanish moss crawls along the trunks of billowing cypress trees lining the Chattahoochee River, branches swaying gently in the breeze of an endless summer. In the distance, there’s the rustle of long grass, and just beyond that sits the town of Miriam’s Well, a tiny town settled in the westernmost reaches of Georgia. 

Summer’s humidity is oppressive; crushes down on chest and lung alike, and the heat simmers against the cracked concrete sidewalks that line the white-washed stores along Main Street. The scent of sweet magnolia sings through the air, and the porches creak under the steady rock of a chair, back and forth against the wood. Discontent gnaws at every resident, as insidious as it is ubiquitous. 

Spanish moss crawls along the trunks of billowing cypress trees lining the Chattahoochee River, branches swaying gently in the breeze of an endless summer. In the distance, there’s the rustle of long grass, and just beyond that sits the town of Miriam’s Well, a tiny town settled in the westernmost reaches of Georgia. 

Summer’s humidity is oppressive; crushes down on chest and lung alike, and the heat simmers against the cracked concrete sidewalks that line the white-washed stores along Main Street. The scent of sweet magnolia sings through the air, and the porches creak under the steady rock of a chair, back and forth against the wood. Discontent gnaws at every resident, as insidious as it is ubiquitous. 

Spanish moss crawls along the trunks of billowing cypress trees lining the Chattahoochee River, branches swaying gently in the breeze of an endless summer. In the distance, there’s the rustle of long grass, and just beyond that sits the town of Miriam’s Well, a tiny town settled in the westernmost reaches of Georgia. 

Summer’s humidity is oppressive; crushes down on chest and lung alike, and the heat simmers against the cracked concrete sidewalks that line the white-washed stores along Main Street. The scent of sweet magnolia sings through the air, and the porches creak under the steady rock of a chair, back and forth against the wood. Discontent gnaws at every resident, as insidious as it is ubiquitous.