There is a girl who can often be found in the confines of her room or, on occasion, Disney World and whose hair may be found to be as the soft glow of white Christmas lights or as the shaded bark of an ash tree. This girl only speaks when deeply prompted or when musing upon such topics as SuperWhoLock; therefore, she actually speaks quite often between her courses and labs filled with formaldehyde soaked beings and anatomy charts. As she speaks, her smooth, fair hands demonstrate the meaning of her words and her voice trails slowly higher as she becomes more excited to share her journeys. Her once ceramic skin is now slightly more human from these escapades in the land of the first churches, and her tales long to be narrated to this audience of one so many miles away from her, the orator so fine.


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