⏳ ECHOECHOECHOECHO Or uh anyone you feel like, your call. It'll be rad tho, I can tell.
For every “⏳” I receive, my muse will openly talk about a bit of their backstory.
“Mama’s here now, Iambe… It’s okay…” The nymph gently rocked her child, humming an old lullaby to soothe her tears. The rocking turned to a sway, which soon became a light dance, the movements not stopping until her daughter’s cries ceased. Only then did she put Iambe back to bed.
Jokes, songs, poems, dance. Iambe was a strange child, always calmed and entertained by the arts, even at such a young age. Echo was sure she had a bright future ahead of her. One far away from disgusting, lecherous gods and the fear of being struck down by jealous goddesses.
A future brighter than Echo’s own.
