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#34
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Suzerain of Sheol
Desolation Denizen
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Smoothing the last crease out of the bedspread, Talhoffer rounds on her Master, bowing in stiff military fashion. "You honor me, Master." She straightens, brushing her hair from her face. "Is there aught else you've need of, or shall we depart now? I must admit, I'm eager to begin."
Cold silence has a tendency
to atrophy any sense of compassion
between supposed lovers.
Between supposed brothers.
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Posted 01-19-2017, 06:29 PM
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