A world between worlds, a crossroad between everything and nothing and spands out in all directions. This room, a room of mirrors that reflect that which is not there, but elsewhere. Doors into other worlds. The one they called "Rose" resides in this room of mirrors, along with an endless sea of shelves packed with books of all kinds. All of these books, written by the "Rose" and those of stories she finds in her travels worth keeping to memory for all of time.
She returns to this world, stepping out from the shining face of one of the many mirrors. Back, from another journy, another quest for stories to be told. Her long black hair flowing behind her as she steps out from the portal. Crimson eyes full of joy from another satisfying trip, lips curled in a smile and spilling out sounds of laughter. A pen forms in her hand and a book opens up before her, another story to add from another world. And she writes...
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A book of Rose
A few story entries from me to you. My mind pouring out onto the page.
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