The shrouded sweet pea.
A marshmallow scent of a comforting hug. A scattered soul with a need to lash out. An empath that radiated jollity across the landscape. An angry mourner for the loss of innocence, trust, and loyalty. The one who felt everything and then nothing. Far away and in the ancient, a creeper-twined and sunlight-warmed home where the gothic turrets peaked through and the bailey rang with sounds of militant valour, a king reigned wise and fair. His wealth, he noted, as a pallid son from the Queen, a sweetpea daughter of his beloved, and a halcyon kingdom. T...