She was never the kind of girl you would picture wearing soft, floaty dresses while standing in a field of tall, waving, golden grass. She always seemed a bit brittle around the edges, as if the gilt paint was just about to crack and peel off. Perhaps this was why her life seemed to suit her so well. She stands against one of the endless, dull,
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This just popped into my head because I was reading the books recently.
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