Kier
I can’t sleep. I’m strung up too tight, and my dreams are overwhelmed by Zephyr on a fruitless search for something in the wild. I wake with ash in my mouth and torn sheets, hungry beyond comprehension. It’s been like this since I walked into Jessamine’s dream—though she hates to admit that it was hers.
The clothes in my dresser are unexpectedly a comfortable fit, and I change into a pair of long, black pants that seem to expand as I pull them up. I have no idea what the material is, but when I return home, I’ll have them recreate this. It’d be comfortable for the men’s training than fighting leathers.
All the shirts are odd, different from the usual designs for tunics, but I find that I might like them as well, when the white I slip on fits rather snugly. Lloyd would love these.
