*Drawcia was going to say something but she ended up deciding against it simply because she felt rather guilty about this. She'd simply let the spikes impale her.*

Description: "The flowers red and yellow and blue" "I will pick the prettiest ones for you, and make the perfect crown for your head" "-But now all the flowers are dead......." "V R O O M V R O O M" "What a lovely sound this makes!" "Cutting everything that is in my wake--"-Sal