*SIGH* She leans back in the comfy chair, the only sound that of the merry fire. Tired. And lonesome. She thinks of all that has passed in this place, wishing she had a
whole day (at least!) to read it all. 1000's of posts by now... Busy, fast typers, my friends. I never planned on becomming so attached to you all! More rain today. *SIGH* Shouldn't whine as we've had really uncommonly good weather this winter. But, alas, the old bones are getting so tetchy about the cold! She wished her hands weren't so stiff. She'd sit down at the old upright and pound out some blues... Or a sad old ballad. Minor key to make the heart cry with yearning. She waves her stiff old hands (they look so
young though!) and arcane traces of blue brightness trace their way to her elbows. Invigorated, joints loose and fast, she sits at the upright and plays... "Sometimes I feeeel like aaa motherless child..." And, somehow, the sad and lonesome tune raises her spirits.
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Proprietor of The Moon's Hope Inn
Smitten by The.Relic
