eyes the color of moss , softened by amour , STARE at a DELICATE VINE -------- one that has slowly become intertwined with her physicality . ( in that tender gaze is something she’s seldom shown any HUMAN . . . ) the greenery that SURROUNDS pamela becomes restless , seeking comfort from MOTHER NATURE ; vines contort , leaves rustle , even the soil seems to shake underneath her voluptuous form . everything comes together to warn ivy of an unexpected guest . . . “ don’t fret , my darlings . . . “ there’s easement in hushed tones ( her voice nurtures the verdure ) . “ i know someone’s here , but i won’t let them hurt you -------- I’LL KILL THEM FIRST . “
@FAIRESTFALL