⠀⠀⠀ ⠀⠀⠀⠀Miselia H. Cathrielline.
⠀𖧷 She walks the earth freely, yet her feet never touch the ground. Many hands will reach for her, but she cannot be anchored. She belongs to no one, to nothing, to nowhere. When you meet her, you will recognize her for what she is a free spirit, a wandering star. She will fit in your arms like she was made to be there. And she will show you what it means to hold something you can never hold on to.
⠀Her story is not just crimson pomegrantes, all of the splendour of spring bends to her will. But this floral maiden also sends shudders of fear with one delicate footstep through all of hell. She reigns over the birth of flowers and gentle beings, raises baby birds in her lap, and with fawns she plays. She reigns over demons and demise alike and before her fury, even Death himself pales. 𔘓 ָ࣪ ۰
⠀𖧷 She walks the earth freely, yet her feet never touch the ground. Many hands will reach for her, but she cannot be anchored. She belongs to no one, to nothing, to nowhere. When you meet her, you will recognize her for what she is a free spirit, a wandering star. She will fit in your arms like she was made to be there. And she will show you what it means to hold something you can never hold on to.
⠀Her story is not just crimson pomegrantes, all of the splendour of spring bends to her will. But this floral maiden also sends shudders of fear with one delicate footstep through all of hell. She reigns over the birth of flowers and gentle beings, raises baby birds in her lap, and with fawns she plays. She reigns over demons and demise alike and before her fury, even Death himself pales. 𔘓 ָ࣪ ۰