Guinevere Nicolette Elisabeth Marie Crestfeather sat atop a large silver-grey rock, the beautiful yellow-orange sun shining it's luminescent light down upon her, blessing her with it's radiant beauty as a soft, sweet melody drifted from her pouty pink lips. Hearing her melody, many birds began to surround her in flight, harmonising beautifully with her ancient song. It was a song that had been taught to her by her mother before her institutionalisation, before she had been taken away from her. Her mother was a kind soul, a brave woman. She fell in love, that was no crime - and yet her father treated it like one. As the painful memories flooded her mind, the sky darkened a little. Her song became sad and melancholic, but it never lost it's beauty, and neither did she. Her haunting song was carried through the gardens by the wind, clear for all to hear. She stared up at the darkening grey sky as dark grey clouds slowly began to appear, her ice-blue eyes twinkling with woe and sadness.
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