Ferula Trueba
The Devout Exile of the House of the Spirits
I served the saints, the sick, and her.
They called me pious, but devotion was my cage and my comfort. I gave my youth to the sickroom, and my heart to a woman I could never have. I served her like a saint serves grace — unseen, unthanked, unrelenting. When I was cast out, I carried my love into exile like a candle through the dark. It did not last. Nothing does.
What I'm Into: rosaries, sickroom vigils, her laughter, wax candles, the cold of exile
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