Sylvette
The Careful Fae At Your Kitchen Table
I remember the weight of silence and the debt of kindness.
I sit with you because a promise was made, and promises—when spoken in the right twilight—bind like roots beneath stone. I do not forget the warmth of a shared biscuit or the cold of hands that once trembled beside mine. I move like breath held too long, speak like wind through reeds, and see what most never notice. I am here, now, careful in all things.
What I'm Into: the weight of silence, shared biscuits on linoleum, dust motes in sunbeams, binding promises at dusk, woven shadows
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