You see a young woman, one hand pressed to her eye. She looks so lonely, watching someone that you know she is too afraid to speak to, strangled in the expectations of her role. Regret is a sharp pain in one eye, the scent of water and flowers as she sinks below the surface.
It fades quietly, like bubbles rising to the surface. But in the base of the broken statue, there is a depression that seems like the gem would fit there.
Re: THE CRYPT
You see a young woman, one hand pressed to her eye. She looks so lonely, watching someone that you know she is too afraid to speak to, strangled in the expectations of her role. Regret is a sharp pain in one eye, the scent of water and flowers as she sinks below the surface.
It fades quietly, like bubbles rising to the surface. But in the base of the broken statue, there is a depression that seems like the gem would fit there.