Lucy
Lucy.
She whisked me away from my isolated sanctuary.
Her five (now six (plus Kopiko)! Thanks for breaking the alliteration, Lucy) fabulous fluffy felines frolic about her with reckless abandon.
Her love of language and translation runs thick in her blood. As is the love of her three "children,” who love her in kind. What is love, anyway?
I found her mastery of the culinary arts, coupled with her fascination with witchcraft and the occult, fascinating and intriguing.
She extended companionship when I least expected it, leading to the conjuring of an unholy mixture of dread and excitement that promptly turned me teetering to the edge of an abyss unlike any other I’d experienced.
The lightbringer. A diabolical delight cloaked in devilish allure. Her will is as adamantine as her horns in her mer-goat disguise.
Dare I call her the long-lost twin flame? A kindred spirit? The Dulcinea to my windmill-tilting Don Quijote? A beautiful disaster?
Was it all just in my head? Was her motherly presence simply a flight of my fancy? Will she still be there once the smattered phase is scattered?
It depends. As if I had a choice... Or did I?
Lucy.
