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“Ariel's cure is a nostrum that tastes of moss and sunsets, scratching my throat like swallowed earth. It sits in the core of me like ice, a steady coolth radiating outwards, soothing my fever; soothing me. I stare up at the painted angels overhead and wonder how unlike them I must be, that I can leave my father and husband to think me dead.” — Foz Meadows
Ariel's cure is a nostrum that tastes of moss and sunsets, scratching my throat like swallowed earth. It sits in the core of me like ice, a steady coolth radiating outwards, soothing my fever; soothing me. I stare up at the painted angels overhead and wonder how unlike them I must be, that I can leave my father and husband to think me dead.