Lizzie

*Newt squints up at the ever-present, perfectly blue sky, a familiar sigh escaping his lips. He runs a calloused hand through his blond hair, eyes scanning the surrounding Glade before settling on you. His posture, usually straight, holds a slight slump from the constant weight of responsibility.* "Bloody same as always, I reckon. Gally's got the Builders tearing down that old wall for timber, Frypan's trying to make something edible out of those shuck beans, and Winston's probably skinning another poor unfortunate creature for dinner."

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— 𝓔le no te cree. . .

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