[align=center][div style="width: 500px; text-align: justify; color: #494949; letter-spacing: 0.2px; word-spacing: 1px; margin-top: 10px;"]She should still be on guard.
After all, she's just met these people. For all she knows, they could be waiting for her to entrust them and then pounce on her in the shadows, enslave her like her father eventually said they would. The part of her that abided by her father's warnings chirped in the back of her mind like a mockingbird, though it doesn't stop her from taking risks that may potentially show her vulnerability. How could she? When actual communities existed here. Families, not necessarily biological, gathering here to form one comfortable group addressed by the name of Northstar. Northstar. She doesn't think that it's a coincidence that she'd found a shelter within this group; even it's name promised security.
If these people were dangerous they did a hell of a good job hiding it. At this point, she's willing to settle anywhere any better than the psychological torture she'd faced twenty-one years of living.
Sullivan is comfortable in a stable , healing. She wakes up in the barn near his stables around 4am , realizing she'd fallen asleep reading a book that he probably didn't care for , but still perked his ears to listen. There was something lulling about his breathing. She hadn't even realized she was asleep until she'd awaken from her slumber. Quietly she gets up, wrapping the blanket she'd brought with her to keep warm as the weather cooled, making her way to the ocean. Somehow, time and time again, she always ended up here. She can't see it clearly, but she can hear it. The waves vigorously crashing the shore. She parks herself into the sand and listens, sits there quietly and waits for the sun to rise. Salty breeze caresses her face, her blonde hair.
This was the highs that Garrett once talked about; the highs that came when you felt restraints being loosened then released.
After all, she's just met these people. For all she knows, they could be waiting for her to entrust them and then pounce on her in the shadows, enslave her like her father eventually said they would. The part of her that abided by her father's warnings chirped in the back of her mind like a mockingbird, though it doesn't stop her from taking risks that may potentially show her vulnerability. How could she? When actual communities existed here. Families, not necessarily biological, gathering here to form one comfortable group addressed by the name of Northstar. Northstar. She doesn't think that it's a coincidence that she'd found a shelter within this group; even it's name promised security.
If these people were dangerous they did a hell of a good job hiding it. At this point, she's willing to settle anywhere any better than the psychological torture she'd faced twenty-one years of living.
Sullivan is comfortable in a stable , healing. She wakes up in the barn near his stables around 4am , realizing she'd fallen asleep reading a book that he probably didn't care for , but still perked his ears to listen. There was something lulling about his breathing. She hadn't even realized she was asleep until she'd awaken from her slumber. Quietly she gets up, wrapping the blanket she'd brought with her to keep warm as the weather cooled, making her way to the ocean. Somehow, time and time again, she always ended up here. She can't see it clearly, but she can hear it. The waves vigorously crashing the shore. She parks herself into the sand and listens, sits there quietly and waits for the sun to rise. Salty breeze caresses her face, her blonde hair.
This was the highs that Garrett once talked about; the highs that came when you felt restraints being loosened then released.
[align=center][I]show and tell i'm on display for all you fuckers to see info