(Untitled)

[pretty_sweeting]

My life is over. *collapses melodramatically*

Comments

[master_kitty]

...*awkward* I'm sorry, Ma'am Olivia..

[pretty_sweeting]

Be not sorry, friend Kitty, 'tis no fault of thine, and yet still thou hast thy love...!

[master_kitty]

Two of 'em, even! *laughs awkwardly* I am sorry, though. It ain't fair when that sort of this happens, is it.

[pretty_sweeting]

*shakes her head vigorously* 'Tis not, indeed.

[eremon_lass]

Ignore that I'm a typist. I just wanted to say how amusing I find it that Shakespeare's comedies are suddenly so tragic. Back to your regularly scheduled angst.

[pretty_sweeting]

Typist: Well, something had to make up for the insanity that was Orsino-in-drag. *g*

[thefoodoflove]

*will never live that down, will he?*

[pretty_sweeting]

Typist: Probably not, no. *g*

[rhombal]

*... whoa, kind of caused this all* XD

[pretty_sweeting]

Typist: ...oooh?

[rhombal]

With my Tarot card reading. :x

[pretty_sweeting]

Typist: *smacks self* Right. Heh.

[madonnas_feste]

*rushes to her side* Madonna! Thou'rt ill?

[pretty_sweeting]

Ay, good Fool. 'Tis but a sickness of the spirit, but 'tis enough, 'twill serve.

[madonnas_feste]

But a sickness of the spirit is as dire as one of the body. Moreso, even, for one can call upon a healer readily for the latter, but healers of the former are fare more precious.

[pretty_sweeting]

*smiles weakly* Thy gift for healing spirits is great, good Fool, but methinks this affliction is beyond thy help.