

The Proposal on the CliffThe wailing wind whistled a bitter dirge in her ear, and she knew that he spoke, for his pale lips moved stiffly as they did when he felt she had suffered silence long enough to deserve a dusting of dry conversation, and forced from his throat a few sounds vaguely resembling words, clacking that cold tongue of his against his bleached teeth, and prying his marble lips apart but the wind swept his words away. She would have read his lips if shed known how to not that his were readable in the slightest. Her attention wandered to her senses. The cold wind whipped her clothing and stung her exposed cheeks and handThe Proposal on the Cliff
by £deviantWEAR
by *zeldis
meow.
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i own your face. no, really i do.
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If death is the answer to love's mysteries,
Then bleed on my darling to the sound of a dream
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So I'll just copy and paste what I was going to say.
"Yes, my room is a chillout room. Dimmed blue lighting, silver decorations, acoustic guitar, keyboard set to "Marimba" and Boards Of Canada playing in the background"
There. I have closure.
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Yarr-->[link]
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Art is the proper task of life. - Nietzsche
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kawaii
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06:58:27 * xxbcxx wonders why theres been chatter about porn all morning
06:58:37 <sentrixx> xxbcxx: cause DJStrife is here
06:58:41 <Skybase> xxbcxx: its devart + its charged with DJStrife
--
Yarr-->[link]
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