@riiposted: "it’s an old song. it’s an old tale from way back when."
     the little sprite of a girl sits crosslegged, wild hair half-pulled back. her eyes light up at the idea of an old song. she lived for old tales, the ancient ways things came to be. her compendiums of mythologies spoke for that. she leans in, curiosity placing an enthused smile on her lips. “o-oh, d-do tell.”
where are you now, orpheus? / accepting.








