Breathing…

It stands behind me, whatever you want to call it. It’s a feeling, like sadness, or a fear of sadness, or worry or doubt or all those things at once. It’s a feeling, sure, but it’s tangible, and it stands there, even when I’m fine, when everything’s fine.

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The painter’s daughter

The Faylin Valley began with stroke of violet, the perfect sky. It might not be the truth, for the truth was that the sky was dull and blue, but that didn’t concern Tully so much. If kings and queens could be rid of every imperfection, the sky would receive such treatment too. Everything was beautiful once Tully had put down his brush, and the valley would be no exception.

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