Post by Dark Fortune of Typos on Apr 9, 2018 10:44:48 GMT -5
On the morning of the 13th day, a servant would deliver a letter to Iweko Yoshinobu. Folded simply but with immense care, the tinge of silver paper is the first thing for the eye to catch. Though light in it's hue, there is no uncertainty of what it is. The lingering scent of vanilla, like what one might bake with rises from paper, tantalizing the senses of anyone who holds it long enough. Strapped to the letter with a light pink twine is a Pansy who's color matches the binds that keep it held down.
Paths made in pure white,
The fresh fallen winter snow,
Our mirrored footfalls.
The fresh fallen winter snow,
Our mirrored footfalls.
