|
|
#318
|
|
Suzerain of Sheol
Desolation Denizen
|
Glancing back to the theurge, Shealtiel nods slowly. "Indeed. Like the Saint of Arc, who now commands the defense of Alexandria. A severe woman, I have heard. Hardly surprising."
He shrugs, and accepts his drink when it is delivered. It has been... long since he has indulged in such pleasantries. He sips slowly, savoring the taste.
Cold silence has a tendency
to atrophy any sense of compassion
between supposed lovers.
Between supposed brothers.
|
|
Posted 07-07-2011, 04:06 PM
|
|
|