[ The smile makes Cellar avert her eyes for a moment, suddenly self-aware and measuring how much smiling is too much smiling on her lips. Arms linked, walking down a forest straight out of Golden Age technicolor in a Ren Faire costume, the flower keeps feeding her thoughts with fluttering wants, scenarios she'd walk away from to cringe at for hours as soon as clarity washed it all off. She clears her throat. ]
no subject
As a wolf, or—?