torrential tears are meant to be shed.
#4
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indent Melisande was mostly glad that this other wolfess was alright with having company. She came a little closer as she spoke, wondering how this femme could possibly be related to her. The vast majority of her family was white, or at least grey, and this girl was the... the black sheep, she supposed. Was that even the correct usage of the phrase, she wondered? Melis decided not to say it out loud, either way. It didn't seem like a compliment.

indent "I'm her son Lisichka's daughter, Melisande Sadira?" She came to stand next to her inverse, and looked down at Ceres' grave. She missed her grandmother, and as much as she always came here expecting to feel better, she always felt the familiar pain and sorrow when she looked down at the little mound of earth. "And you? How are you related?"

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