lullabies — patrochilleis: Aquilla strokes my hair, and...

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See, that’s what the app is perfect for.

Sounds perfect Wahhhh, I don’t wanna
peterkavinsky
patrochilleis

Aquilla strokes my hair, and warmth flows from her fingers into my body, like spiced cider on a freezing morning. My eyes grow heavy, and I close them again as the fire recedes.

I understand that Aquilla isn’t singing me to a sweet death.

She’s bringing me back to life.

aeita

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