Thread:HawtSquidPaw/@comment-33315489-20180310161200/@comment-32416297-20180318190609

Luka had settled on the black, rounded chairs pushed beside a table. A small vase, filled with an assortment of flowers ranging from azure to orange tickled his sensative nose, sending him plugging it to not sneeze.

Abigail was perched within a large, twisting oak. On her lap sat a book, an old one she'd read when she'd been younger.