Bell sat on the wrought-iron bench, its cool surface pressing against her back as she leaned slightly forward, her fingers gripping the pencil like it was the only tether to her thoughts.
I adore the time you've taken to describe the city.
Gorgeous: "a labyrinth of structures built to defy gravity, their spires stretching high above the lower reaches, where darkness pooled like liquid night."
Love this detail: "metallic bite of crystal dust that seemed to permeate everything in Dûrnarn"
Love love love: "adding to the impression of someone who lived life with his hands full of colour and his heart full of stories."
Omg I can't stop smiling about how love tastes like a top shelf margarita to her!
"brief, beautiful, and leaving her wanting more."
This is literally how you write
I adore the time you've taken to describe the city.
Gorgeous: "a labyrinth of structures built to defy gravity, their spires stretching high above the lower reaches, where darkness pooled like liquid night."
Love this detail: "metallic bite of crystal dust that seemed to permeate everything in Dûrnarn"
Love love love: "adding to the impression of someone who lived life with his hands full of colour and his heart full of stories."
Omg I can't stop smiling about how love tastes like a top shelf margarita to her!
Loved this so much. Can't wait for the next one!
The whole story makes my smile non-stop—even while editing. Something heartwarming to get us all through the winter.