Kat Draíocht

A self-proclaimed un-ordinary twenty-one year old who wanders empty paths and foggy forests, pierced ears reveling in the silence. The wind caresses fine blonde hair and rustles black fabric against young, pale skin. The empty wine bottle glistens as it leans against the rock, holding the ink smeared papers beneath.

Plastered to the familiar walls of her sanctuary is a map dotted with pins of familiar lands, the empty spaces longing to be discovered. Walls coated in layers of paint shaping the shadows of forests and mountains. Paperbacks and bookshelves enveloping naked walls with lives untold, only room for more adventure, more life.

In the shadow of the forest, her heart beats as memories flash before her eyes. The heat dances across chilled skin, whipsters through the trees reach eager ears. They are distant echoes of steps once taken, photos once snapped. They lay, scattered across a desk, fingerprints smearing the corners.

"There's no such thing as an ordinary human."
- The Doctor