Memoirs: Reminiscence

I was starting to fear the Moonglade. Not for threat of physical harm, but just for the fact that these last few visits had ended with simple words echoing through my mind and a hidden garment in my bags. Suring the Festival though, as uncomfortable as that was, I still could not take myself away so easily. Instead, I sat there, on the shores of the lake, letting the purple fabric drift over my hands, and for once gave myself permission to remember.

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