currently doing a charcoal facemask and am absolutely dreading taking it off lmao
UPDATE i took it off just before publishing it and it was the most painful but cathartic experience omg i love it and my skin is so soft holy
no pain no gain woo
thank you for 5k mine lieblings & enjoy x
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OK i am writing another update to this note forgive me
BASICALLY i've just finished writing sin in my drafts and have begun writing a new finan fic called belladonna and if you would like to check it out, please do :) i think the OC is quite different to morwenna cos this new chick is a fuckin crazy bitch ngl
it says coming 2019 in the epigraph but i intend to get the prologue and all that out before then it just depends on how it works bc i have mocks in the next few weeks
ANYWAY i'll let u get on enjoy this chapter
xox
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word count; 2213
Morwenna
Home. It was a word that had such meaning to all that knew it. Everyone, even the Danes, associated somewhere warm, kind and loving with the word home. It was subjective to your own experience but the concept of home was something universal within the world, no matter differing religions or genders.
But it was upon spring morn' that I found myself thinking of a peculiar question. Was my home Wessex or Mercia? I had always regarded myself as Mercian and my estates within it as my home, but I had not been there in so long. I had forgotten what it even looked like and now I felt drawn to Wessex, likely out of feeling for Finan. I had survived, victorious of one battle, but another was beginning. A long struggle, an internal conflict that I felt sure would be all the more challenging than the last.
I came to consciousness slowly, like when you wake after a long sleep but do not wish to instantly begin your day. Lying there, allowing yourself to slowly wake without fear of others needing you. It was blissful contentment that I granted myself; I had not slept much the past few months and felt I deserved some kind of long sleep. Finan clearly disagreed, as he made clear by beginning to speak.
"My sweet, sweet Morwenna. I cannot lose you. Please, Morwenna. I cannot." His voice spoke. "I pledged myself to you. My heart to you. Don't abandon me now, after all that we've faced."
"I think that's a risk you're going to have to take, Irishman," I whispered from laboured breaths, opening my eyes. Finan sat next to me with one arm under me. I was in his arms, content, though the pain was never-ending. I could've died peacefully, there and then. But that was not what my duty was. And I had to fulfil my duty. We were in the middle of the Saxon camp still but my bed was covered fully, one slip of the tent lying down. Each time I had woken, it was open, but not now. Likely as a result of my hallucinations.
