3; voice
[Illyria is sitting in her room and dictating her painbow of emotions to her book because there is nothing better to do in her life. And the post-de-cupiding moping was getting boring.]
I have spent many days in my room [she pauses to decide on the word she wants to use, and then spits it out with disgust:] grieving. I have done violence, but it does not please me. Even the food I consume tastes like ashes of the fallen in my mouth. I tire of this pitiful human existence. There must be a way to purge myself of these emotions.
I have spent many days in my room [she pauses to decide on the word she wants to use, and then spits it out with disgust:] grieving. I have done violence, but it does not please me. Even the food I consume tastes like ashes of the fallen in my mouth. I tire of this pitiful human existence. There must be a way to purge myself of these emotions.