Ciruthdyl walked down the winding corridors of the Prancying Pony. Burying her teeth deeply into her lower lip. She could bend the truth, weave it into her own liking. In the end facts would win the day. Her anxiousness close to making her burst into tears. Thankfully, there had been no one to witness said tears or so she thought. There had been rumors of a caravan nearby, those she had called 'family' were nothing but mere strangers. Wearing the mask of such a thing.
Her head rested against the window pane as she stood in one of the open rooms. She wanted to find answers regarding her origins, regarding who she truly was. However, her mind was so scattered. How could she even process answers when they were found? If such answers were even solid and true.
She was going in circles and felt pathetic. Like a lost pup without a home.
Some things never change..
