nanowrimo moodboard: chapter 3 of purple diamonds.

[sunfright]

“Manon,” she says again, and it never stops being sweet, how it is Manon to Marguerite. “How much can the body take?” / There is no question about the heart. / “Anything but death, and death is shall bear even so,” I respond and tighten the laces of the corset until she can only breathe enough to live. It is coming for us, but it has yet to arrive. She gasps, straightens up instinctually. That is how we meet our demise, harlot sister; heads held high.