Ivy and the Art by my_voice_rising
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Ivy and the Art
So there Pansy sat, feeling sorry for herself and unbuttoning her collar lower and lower to defy the burning heat. Or maybe she didn’t want to escape it. Let it burn, let it distort, let it simmer on her flawed features. Sweat collected in the dip of her throat. Her heavy head leaned back, hair tangling in the ivy, becoming part of it.
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