#*self five*

Leliana, Josie, and Cassandra show up first. They come prepared with towels and suits and Leliana brings a raft made for lounging.

Bull, on the other hand, brings his new boyfriend, Dorian. One of those guys who are handsome enough to kick the wind right out of a perfectly healthy set of lungs. He’s funny and clever, with charisma coming out his ears.

And he insists that Cullen join them for a hike.

“So, frat-boy came after all,” Sera says once they’re gone. “That’s good, right?”

“He didn’t go to university.”

“Like that’s the point.” She kicks out her legs, inspecting their color as the water drips down, then grabs the sunscreen from behind her. “Blonde. Beefy. Boring. Frat-boy!”

“How would you know if he’s boring?”

“Is he?”

“He runs into burning buildings to save people for a living, how could that possibly be boring?”

Sera bumps her shoulder, cherry blossom streaked with white, into Athi’s. “That’s not a real answer.”

“Fine, he’s not boring!”

“If you say so. Ah, shite. Got too much of this mess. Take some?”

They swim and sit and float and play, jeans and sundresses stuffed into bags, abandoned on the beach, draped over the dock. Athi goads Cass into a race to the floating island, and then loses by more than a hair. The sun trades places, east to west, and suddenly the day is gone.

Athi pulls herself onto the dock and wriggles back into her jeans. Finds her tank top on Sera’s shoes, and twists her hair up to keep the lake water off her back. When she offers to go back to camp for drinks, the response is more than enthusiastic.

To be perfectly honest, it’d be nice if someone else would fetch the drinks for a change.

Back at the camp, Varric is crouched next to a rather pathetic excuse for a fire.

“Please tell me you’re not cooking,” she says.

“Oh, I’m not. Though I’d like to think I could rise to the occasion and warm up some hot dogs. You know, if the people needed me.”

A trunk slams shut, and she startles. “Thankfully, the people do not, or they would likely all starve.”

Solas walks toward her—no not her, just the campsite. But when she catches the flick of his eyes down her form, her heart still does an uncomfortable flip-flop inside of her ribs.

No, she tells it. No, keep it together.

But creators, she must be a mess. Rolled-up jeans, no makeup, no shoes, swim top soaking through her shirt, and a hasty bun. Probably fried and frizzy. Come to think of it, she’s not even sure she’s looked in a mirror yet today. Not that it matters, of course.

Then there’s Solas. Sharp features and ocean eyes. Somehow immaculate, despite the heat, in cuffed tan shorts and an easy olive v-neck. He’d worn it to that party, all those months ago. And it’s half tucked in over the bone of his hip, not that she dwells on it.

And he’s here.

Not that she cares.

He opens a cooler by a small blue tent. Comes back with three beers and a bottle opener, and he holds one out to her. It’s ice-cold and dripping. Off the bottle, into her hand, leaving cool wet tracks down her forearm.

“Hey,” she says softly. For such a small word, it comes out awfully shaky.

“Hello.” His smile, too, is an uncertain little thing, hanging crooked on his mouth like a—

Not that she’s looking at his—

Oh, fuck.

She tears her eyes away, resting them instead on Varric’s dying fire.

“Do you want some help with that?” she offers.

“You know, I thought you’d never ask.”

Setting her bottle beside her, she uses the end of a piece of firewood to push his blackened sticks to the center of the pit, extinguishing whatever flames actually managed to survive his efforts. Then she lays it in the ashes next to the pile. More logs, arranged crosswise, more kindling in the middle, and a burning match sets it freshly alight.

“Hey, Solas! Glad you made it, buddy!” Even coming from the edge of the campsite, Bull’s voice booms in her ears.

Cullen and Dorian trail a ways behind him, talking like old friends.

“You know each other?” she asks.

“Sort of, yeah!” Bull claps Solas on the back. “I was on the squad for some big deal museum thing a couple months back, and he was there, and we got to talking.”

Solas laughs softly. “As I recall, you asked if my companion was single.”

A log slips free of her grasp and clangs against the heavy metal fire guard, but no one seems to notice.

“Mmm. Yeah, I remember,” Bull says. “Redhead. Good times! Anyway, we’ve hung out a few times since then.”

Varric leans over. “I’ve tried to get in on it, but so far, no luck. Whatever they get up to, it’s gotta be good.”

“Oh, it’s good.” Bull waggles his eyebrows, but Solas only grins, tips his bottle up, and drinks.

“So, this is where you went!”

Cassandra, walking up the path from the lake with the others, has her you’re in trouble face on. Brows knit tight, eyes fierce, voice shrill, and Athi can’t help but wonder if this is what it feels like to be accused of murder.

But Varric cuts in before she can ask for a lawyer.

“Hey, Seeker!” he says. “Fancy meeting you here.”

The look Cassandra gives him is withering. “Oh, it’s you . I suppose I should have known.”

“Sorry, I was”—Athi gestures to the now-healthy fire—“waylaid.”

Varric laughs. “Taken captive by my charming vulnerability, she means.”

“Charming!” Cass rolls her eyes. “I have never heard anything so ridiculous.”

Dorian swoops in like the guest of honor, rather than somebody’s plus-one. “Well, this has been a delightful bit of repartee,” he says, “but might I suggest we consider our supper? I’m not sure about the rest of you lot, but the three of us did just climb a mountain.”

“Not the whole thing,” Cullen admits, and is quickly shushed by Dorian.

Athi lets the fire die a bit, and over the embers they cobble together a meal: Bull grills the veggie kebabs he’s had marinating, Sera roasts up some corn, Leliana tucks potatoes wrapped in tin foil into the warm ashes, and Cullen cooks the chicken they brought on hot-dog skewers.

They make a weird bunch, she thinks as they eat and talk and laugh and tease and argue. Humans and elves, a qunari, a dwarf. Different homelands, different jobs. With the exception of Leliana, who has known Josie since high school and Cass since college, all the connections between them are thin. Sera did a couple of Leliana’s tattoos. Varric was (briefly) a suspect in one of Cassandra’s investigations. Cullen and Dorian hadn’t even met before this afternoon. Yet those bonds were struck and somehow held fast in an instant.

It’s difficult to tell where she fits. What gap she fills, what role she plays, but then Bull tells the one about the time she took him shopping, and she decides it doesn’t matter. So long as she fits at all.

Seconds and thirds, then Bull stands and pulls a handful of cigars from his shirt pocket. “Anyone want to go down to the dock? Genuine Seherons, been looking forward to these babies. Dorian? Cass?”

“Thank you, but no.” Dorian grimaces. “I don’t smoke. Besides, I’d like to wear these clothes again someday, and ‘campfire’ is going to be difficult enough to get out.”

“I’ll join you,” says Cass.

Cullen goes as well, leaves her with a warm smile. She never expected him to be so interested in socializing. Not like he ever asked to meet her friends. She’d been worried about him, thought he’d feel out of place or something, but it was needless. He has charmed them all in a single afternoon just by being his polite, well-spoken, surprisingly funny self.

“Surprised you let her out of your sight,” Sera says to Varric, throwing a piece of onion across the fire at him.

He bats it away like he’s done this before. Knowing Sera, he probably has.

“I’m just giving her a chance to miss me, that’s all.”

Everyone seems finished, fed and content. Instinctively, Athi starts to clean up. Collects the trash and plastic plates, the empty bottles, then goes for water but Solas is already elbow-deep in suds. He tells her to sit with the others; instead, she picks up a towel and dries. Feels good to have her hands busy. Feels better to be near—

No.

Josephine gasps. “Oh, Leliana, we never set up our tent!”

“Now is as good a time as any, don’t you think, Josie?”

“Now it is dark! Do you know what you’re doing? I’ve never actually done this before.”

“Well,” Dorian says, “I shall volunteer my services, as I neither prepared dinner nor cleaned up after it.” He nods gratefully toward her and Solas. “Luckily for you, I’m a natural at pointing a flashlight.”

The three of them disappear into the darkness, chattering away.

After the dishes are done and the trash packed away, Athi adds another log to the fire. Another hour or so of Sera fixating on the marshmallows nobody brought, and Varric smacks his palms to his thighs.

“All right, I think it’s about time for me to head out,” he says. “That actual, sheltered, comfortable bed is calling my name.”

“Really?” Athi teases. “It’s barely nine! I’d have thought you had more life left in you than that.”

“Hey, not all of us want to have the same special loathe-hate relationship with mornings that you have, early bird.”

Solas chuckles. “You’ve noticed this as well?”

“Yeah, I made the mistake of calling for a favor at a perfectly reasonable time of day—”

“Reasonable for who, exactly?” she protests.

“—And she picked up, swore colorfully at me in, I believe, no less than three different languages, and disconnected.”

“Oh, please. That’s nothing,” Sera says with a scoff. “She shattered my guitar!”

“I apologized for that.”

“Can’t play an ‘I’m sorry,’ now can I?”

Athi groans. “Just go, Varric. Go to your mattress and mini-bar and room service and take your slander with you.”

“It’s only slander if it’s not true,” he says, and walks away with a casual wave of his wrist.

Sera yawns. “Think I’ll turn in, too.”

“Seriously?”

If Sera leaves, she’ll be alone with him. Really alone. And if they’re alone, he’ll almost certainly look at her at some point, and her heart will do that thing it always does and is not supposed to. Athi pleads with her eyes, begs her to stay, but Sera doesn't notice—or pretends not to. She walks behind the canvas chairs and plants a kiss atop Athi’s head with an exaggerated smacking sound.

“Be good!” And she slips into her tent.

Athi briefly considers following their lead, then remembers it’s been all of five minutes since she declared it too early to do so.

“I suppose you’re the next to fall,” she says to fill the silence, hoping he is.

Hoping he isn’t.

“I could not abandon you so easily.”

Seven words, and she melts. It’s not fair, how quickly he breaks her down, leaves her bare. It's not right. His nearness is intoxicating, their solitude is terrifying, and she’s stuck somewhere between the fear and the falling. Safe, though, like he’s the solid ground. Searching, and he's an answer. Brimful, satiated. Like she’s been trying to breathe underwater, and he’s the air above its surface.

Like she's a foolish, stupid girl with a foolish, stupid heart.

He’s abandoned her once already, practically ghosted her after that stupid fucking morning. Not that she can blame him; she’d disappeared too. And Cullen—

As if summoned by her guilt, his laughter drifts up from the dock. If she blocks out some light from the fire, she can see him from here—just a shadow among shadows.

“He seems nice,” Solas says, and stares intently through the flames like he can see what she does.

“He is.”

“And you are happy?”

Yes , she tries to say. It sticks in her throat. Instead says, “He’s a good guy,” as if that’s enough.

But he accepts it, nods and leans forward to add another piece of wood to the fire. It shifts, and sparks fly. Some disappear into the dirt around her bare brown feet, some float into the air and mix with the stars.

This time, he is the one to break the silence. “Before the world was changed and much of history concealed, magic came to some as easily as breathing.”

His voice, much like a hearty red wine, goes straight to her head and its cadence leaves her giddy.

He continues. “A fire could be summoned or extinguished with a thought; without need for wood or matches to ignite it. Many feared such power, and locked mages away to prevent what they might someday do.”

A story, like the ones about the stars. He settles back into it so quickly, so unexpectedly. On the rooftop at Varric’s with the music thundering beneath them—that’s when they had started. She’d matched his rhythm, once, and the counts of the syllables. Trying to see if he noticed. Trying to provoke him. Trying to see what his ruffled feathers looked like. But he hadn’t missed a beat, only looked at her as though she was all that existed, and begun another story.

Athi tucks her feet underneath her and watches the smoke curl up into the ink-black sky. Carefully, she considers her story and patiently, he waits.

“The Dalish have some stories still, of spells that sunk into the earth and made the forest twist and grow around them. A secret gift from silent gods to keep the world from chaos, because nature has a way of running wild. So they kept it to themselves, passed down from every Keeper to their First.”

“Very good.” His voice wears a smile and a hint of pride. “I’d hoped you had not forgotten.”

“It’s your turn,” she says, still looking up.

“You are right. Give me a moment.”

Feeling indulgent, she lets her eyes rove his face. The glow of the fire on the rise of his cheeks, the focused calm, the cut of his jaw.

“At night, when people slept, they’d dream—but not the empty flailing of a restless mind devoid of stimulation. They visited the Fade, a realm of spirits who reflected expectations, memories, even desires. Waking and sleeping, each world shaped and reflected the other.”

She grows too content, watches him for a split second too long, and it bubbles up in her chest before she can stop it. “I’ve missed you,” and it feels good. Feels honest.

His eyes shift to meet hers, the calm replaced by something soft, surprised, sorrowful.

“And I have missed you.”

Her heart beats wildly against her rib cage. She doesn’t know where to go from here, but then sees a head of yellow curls and the kindest face she’s ever kissed, and Cullen walks up to stand behind her. His hands on her shoulders, he leans down to whisper in her ear.

“Come to bed?”

She wants to say no, wants to stay, but she shouldn’t. She’s lost enough ground already. So she nods, takes his hand, and fills her smile with an apology.

“Goodnight, Solas.”

He smiles back, sort of.

Back in their tent with a flashlight hanging overhead, she roots around the bottom of her bag.

“Hey Cullen?” she asks. “Is my toothbrush in with your stuff?”

“I don’t know. Maybe? I’ll check when I get back.”

“Back? What happened to bed?”

“Yes, back. I need to go use—well, a tree.” He chuckles and kisses her on the forehead and rustles off into the darkness.

Athi changes out of her jeans and her tank top and sits there in the mostly-dark, watching the target-shaped circle of light sway slightly over the blankets. Then she grabs his backpack and starts looking.

It’s not in with his toiletries, or buried under his clothes. Last, she checks the side pockets, and her fingers brush something smooth and hard and suspiciously shaped. Her gut says leave it , but she pulls it out anyway. Just to look, so she won’t wonder.

It fits in her palm. A small square box with rounded edges, black and sleek and velvet, but there’s no way it is what she thinks it is. Still, she flips back the lid. Just to check, so she won’t worry.

Inside is a delicate silver-colored ring, engraved vines climbing toward a deep blue stone. Inside the band, a tiny engraving: everlasting.

The tent zips open again.

“Any luck? Maybe you . . .” He trails off when he sees what she holds in her hand.

𝓜𝓫𝓽𝓲 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓲𝓽𝔂: 73%

🌑 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓢𝓾𝓷𝓸𝓸 𝓪𝓻𝓮 𝓴𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓻𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓹𝓲𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓼, 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓯𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓹𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮

🌑 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓫𝓸𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓪𝓿𝓮 𝓪 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓱𝓯𝓾𝓵 𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓼𝓮 𝓸𝓯 𝔀𝓸𝓷𝓭𝓮𝓻 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓬𝓮, 𝓯𝓲𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓳𝓸𝔂 𝓲𝓷 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓵𝓲𝓽𝓽𝓵𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼-- 𝓪 𝓬𝓾𝓽𝓮 𝓯𝓲𝓰𝓾𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓰𝓸𝓽 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓪 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓹, 𝓸𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝓶𝓮𝓵𝓵 𝓸𝓯 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓸𝓾𝓽𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮, 𝓸𝓻 𝓪 𝓷𝓮𝔀 𝓱𝓲𝓭𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓰𝓮𝓶 𝓸𝓯 𝓪 𝓬𝓪𝓯é

🌑 𝓨𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓫𝓸𝓽𝓱 𝓸𝓯𝓽𝓮𝓷 𝓼𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓰𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓷 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓼 𝓽𝓸𝓰𝓮𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻, 𝓪𝓻𝓶-𝓲𝓷-𝓪𝓻𝓶, 𝓵𝓪𝓾𝓰𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓽 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮 𝓳𝓸𝓴𝓮𝓼.

🌑 𝓨𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓸 𝓪𝓭𝓸𝓻𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓱𝓮𝓪𝓵𝓽𝓱𝔂 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓽'𝓼 𝓱𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼𝓽𝓵𝔂 𝓭𝓲𝓼𝓰𝓾𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓾𝓼 𝓳𝓪𝓭𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓵𝓮 𝓯𝓸𝓵𝓴 𝓵𝓲𝓴𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓰𝓾𝔂𝓼 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓷𝓸𝓽𝓮𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓶𝓸𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓰𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓷𝓲𝓰𝓱𝓽 𝓽𝓮𝔁𝓽𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓲𝓵𝓴 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓶𝓸𝓬𝓱𝓪 𝓫𝓮𝓪𝓻 𝓰𝓲𝓯𝓼

🌑 𝓢𝓾𝓷𝓸𝓸 𝓲𝓼 𝓪 𝓽𝓻𝓾𝓮 𝓰𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓵𝓮𝓶𝓪𝓷 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓰𝓮𝓽𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓯𝓵𝓸𝔀𝓮𝓻𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓬𝓸𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓫𝓲𝓻𝓽𝓱𝓭𝓪𝔂 𝓸𝓻 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓷 𝓸𝓷 𝓪 𝓻𝓮𝓰𝓾𝓵𝓪𝓻 𝓭𝓪𝔂.

🌑 𝓗𝓮'𝓭 𝓻𝓮𝓵𝓪𝓽𝓮 𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓫𝓲𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝓼𝓸𝓬𝓲𝓪𝓫𝓵𝓮 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝔁𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓮, 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝓮 𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂 𝓪𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓿𝓮 𝓲𝓷 𝓹𝓪𝓻𝓽𝓲𝓮𝓼 𝓸𝓻 𝓫𝓲𝓰 𝓬𝓻𝓸𝔀𝓭𝓼, 𝓪𝓵𝔀𝓪𝔂𝓼 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓹𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓭𝓮𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓹𝓻𝓮𝓼𝓼 𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔀𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓶𝓮𝓭.

🌑 𝓗𝓮 𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓼 𝓱𝓸𝔀 𝓶𝓾𝓬𝓱 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓯𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓸 𝓹𝓾𝓶𝓹𝓴𝓲𝓷 𝓹𝓪𝓽𝓬𝓱𝓮𝓼, 𝓫𝓮𝓻𝓻𝔂 𝓸𝓻𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓼, 𝓬𝓪𝓻𝓻𝓲𝓪𝓰𝓮 𝓻𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓼, 𝓱𝓪𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮𝓼, 𝓮𝓼𝓬𝓪𝓹𝓮 𝓻𝓸𝓸𝓶𝓼, 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓬𝓮𝓻𝓽𝓼, 𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓻𝔂𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓱𝓮 𝓬𝓪𝓷.

🌑 𝓗𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓴𝓼 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓱𝓲𝓵𝓪𝓻𝓲𝓸𝓾𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓫𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓸𝓾𝓽 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓼𝓪𝓻𝓬𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬, 𝓭𝓻𝔂 𝓼𝓲𝓭𝓮. 𝓛𝓮𝓽'𝓼 𝓷𝓸𝓽 𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓢𝓾𝓷𝓸𝓸 𝓬𝓪𝓷 𝓫𝓮 𝓪 𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓱 𝓱𝓲𝓼 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓭 𝓸𝓷𝓮𝓼.

~

༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･

{𝓐𝓰𝓪𝓲𝓷 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓼𝓸 𝔀𝓱𝓸𝓵𝓮𝓼𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓘 𝓬𝓪𝓷'𝓽 𝓲𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓷𝓮 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓢𝓾𝓷𝓸𝓸 𝓲𝓷 𝓭𝓪𝓻𝓴 𝓐𝓤𝓼 𝓼𝓸 𝔀𝓮'𝓻𝓮 𝓭𝓸𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓯𝓾𝓷 𝓼𝓹𝓸𝓸𝓴𝔂 𝓲𝓷𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓪𝓭.}

🌑 𝓨𝓸𝓾 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷𝓮𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓼𝓮𝓵𝓯 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓫𝓲𝓻𝓭. 𝓖𝓸𝓸𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓫𝓸𝔂 𝓯𝓻𝓸𝓶 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓷𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓪𝓵 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓵𝓭 𝓪𝓬𝓬𝓲𝓭𝓮𝓷𝓽𝓪𝓵𝓵𝔂 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝔂𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓶𝔂𝓼𝓽𝓲𝓬𝓪𝓵 𝔀𝓸𝓻𝓵𝓭 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓲𝓼 𝔀𝓲𝓵𝓵𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓽𝓸 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓹 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓽𝓾𝓻𝓷 𝓫𝓪𝓬𝓴 𝓽𝓸 𝓪 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓼𝓸𝓷 𝓲𝓯 𝔂𝓸𝓾 𝓱𝓮𝓵𝓹 𝓱𝓲𝓶 𝓰𝓮𝓽 𝓱𝓸𝓶𝓮 (𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓰𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝔀𝓪𝓵𝓵 𝓪𝓾)

🌑 𝓢𝓾𝓷𝓸𝓸 𝓻𝓾𝓷𝓼 𝓪 𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓬 𝓼𝓱𝓸𝓹 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓹𝓮𝓻𝓯𝓸𝓻𝓶𝓼 𝓶𝓪𝓰𝓲𝓬 𝓽𝓻𝓲𝓬𝓴𝓼 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝔂𝓸𝓾'𝓻𝓮 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓸𝓷𝓵𝔂 𝓸𝓷𝓮 𝔀𝓱𝓸 𝓫𝓮𝓵𝓲𝓮𝓿𝓮𝓼 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂'𝓻𝓮 𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓵... 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓽𝓱𝓮𝔂 𝓪𝓻𝓮. 𝓗𝓮 𝓬𝓸𝓷𝓯𝓮𝓼𝓼𝓮𝓼 𝓫𝔂 𝓼𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓪 𝓯𝓵𝔂𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓵𝓸𝓿𝓮 𝓵𝓮𝓽𝓽𝓮𝓻.

🌑 𝓢𝓾𝓷𝓸𝓸, 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓼𝔀𝓮𝓮𝓽, 𝓼𝓱𝔂 𝓫𝓸𝔂 𝓲𝓷 𝓼𝓬𝓱𝓸𝓸𝓵, 𝓰𝓮𝓽𝓼 𝓹𝓻𝓪𝓷𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓫𝔂 𝓱𝓲𝓼 "𝓯𝓻𝓲𝓮𝓷𝓭𝓼" 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓵𝓸𝓬𝓴𝓮𝓭 𝓲𝓷 𝓪 𝓵𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓵 𝓱𝓪𝓾𝓷𝓽𝓮𝓭 𝓱𝓸𝓾𝓼𝓮, 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓪𝓽 𝓵𝓮𝓪𝓼𝓽 𝓱𝓮 𝓶𝓮𝓽 𝓪 𝓬𝓾𝓽𝓮 𝔀𝓲𝓽𝓬𝓱? (𝓢𝓬𝓪𝓻𝔂 𝓖𝓸𝓭𝓶𝓸𝓽𝓱𝓮𝓻 𝓫𝓾𝓽 𝓶𝓪𝓴𝓮 𝓲𝓽 𝓻𝓸𝓶𝓪𝓷𝓽𝓲𝓬)

༄˖°.🍂.ೃ࿔*:･

🌑 𝓘𝓷𝓽𝓸 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓤𝓷𝓴𝓷𝓸𝔀𝓷 - 𝓞𝓿𝓮𝓻 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓖𝓪𝓻𝓭𝓮𝓷 𝓦𝓪𝓵𝓵

🌑 𝓠𝓾𝓮𝓮𝓷 𝓸𝓯 𝓓𝓲𝓼𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻 - 𝓛𝓪𝓷𝓪 𝓓𝓮𝓵 𝓡𝓮𝔂