Literature
Way too Much.
Azalyth sat in one of the chairs by the fire at the faire, careful not to get too close; she had just been told earlier that 'formerly-dead' people were particularly flammable. "Wow, today was crazy; getting launched from a cannon, flying kodos, tauren tickling a bat...he he, such fun." A vague smile twitched at the corners of her mouth, though her brow furrowed; there was so much mulling about in her head that had happened recently. She sighed, quietly listing them aloud: "Aldor, my robes, that paladin...Langley...I know none of it is their fault, but they're all making me feel so damn much! It's so...so..." Her voice trailed off as she got