All you hear are the rusted breezes

BD 10/20

POSTED: Wed Oct 25, 2017 8:52 pm

Virue

Virue was sitting in a chair on the beach. An easel propped in front of him, his hand accompanied by a paint brush. His eyes were powerful, his face changing gradually with the tide. His mouth was slighted open, as if propped agape by an invisible support. Mottled ears leaned toward the water. A cane rested beside him, just brushing the top of his thigh. Rialu had made it for him, and although it had been a learning curve, some of the woodworking techniques involved were similar to those used in the process of making a bow. Virue took comfort in knowing that he was walking with the help of his friend, every step he took.

Healing hadn’t been an easy process for Virue, who so badly wanted to move and do the things he normally could. The least worrisome of his wounds were superficial and would disappear with time. However, the worst of the fray of pains he’d recieved, was his foot. Clover had told him it was most likely broken, and that he’d need a splint as well as a cast. Then the swelling went down after a week and she decided it had been a smaller break somewhere in his ankle. Apparently he was lucky, although at this point the idea of him being lucky amused him. Still, thinking about what had happened made him feel uneasy, as if it would happen all over again in an instant. That cabin would surely visit him in his nightmares as soon as he was able to dream again. The water came slogging in to mesh over the shales and gritty sand of Hades beach, and his ears adjusted to the sounds of water pushing up along the shore like a great wall — an invading force trying to storm the land of Inferni. Though Virue knew the enemy was far beyond his reach now. He would sit back and watch once again, like he’d done in the war against the Boreas contingency. He’d remained in such high hopes during that war, as if he just knew everything would get better...and it did, but only for a time. People would always need to die. Vesper had brought them into war. The Aquila had made the decision to fight the big bad enemy once more. If Virue was a little younger he would have thought it a fairy tale, but he was much smarter than that. He hated what Vesper had done, mostly because Virue couldn’t help but feel like it was his fault. Omar had been killed and he was still here. He wished it were the opposite. Maybe things would have been better off that way...maybe he would’ve been the only one needing to die.

His reddened eyes watched the psuedo-water he had placed before him, and raised his brush. The tiny bristles waded above the canvas, moving, deciding, as if afraid to weather the depths it was poised to confront. Then another sound unlike the water he was trying to emulate brought his eyes from the paper. His ears shifted and his breathing remained pensive. The sounds of shrill, morbid panic proceeded from a cropping of bullrushes on the shoreline. The cries were characteristically avian. Suddenly Virue stood, and with a yelp he abruptly fell, his palm scraped as it punched into the rough sand. His foot throbbed. With a grunt he staggered back to the now-flipped chair. He leaned on the overturned furniture that looked alien amidst the natural surroundings. Blue eyes spotted the cane a few feet away. He must have hit it that way when he’d fallen. With a sigh Virue began hobbling toward it, wincing all the while, his foot drawn away from the earth as much as possible.

Come help Virue and a wounded birb. Virue is also wrapped up pretty good with some bandages and is in optime form. Wow it's weird saying that. Backdated to the 20th! [600+]

coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine
Inferni
Quintus (NPC)
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Daniel
Luperci Patrolman, Shepherd
light and match

POSTED: Thu Nov 09, 2017 2:29 am

Optime (+476)

Shikoba didn’t hear the bird noise because he was too far x3 Hope my assumption that they’d at least know each other’s names is okay?

It wasn’t often that the Tirones was able to have a bit of time by his lonesome. Often times, Scuttle flanked him, curious and eager as ever to learn about the world and everything in it. She’d gone off with Kore though, likely testing her scouting skills with a game of hide-and-seek again with the vixen. In a time of war and unable to do much else due to her young age and inability to shift, there was precious little that the coydog could do on her own. It meant a lot of downtime for her, unfortunately, so, her guardian had insisted that she hone her skills.

Free of his usual company, the coymutt found himself wandering the territory aimlessly. He’d fletched a good dozen arrows earlier that day, and he found it high time to take a breather from war-related prep work. One could only do so much, and the Whiplash did not fancy to work himself tirelessly. That was how mistakes were made, and he did not want a repeat of the events on the night of Molcaxitl’s death. So blind he had been, consumed by anger and wanting of revenge, he hadn’t seen the signs of a trap until it had been too late.

His paw pads met the unsteady surface area of the ugly, pebbled stretch of Hades Beach. Shikoba found his feet constantly readjusting in minute ways as he walked, his ankles trying to remain steady and upright despite the various, shifting surfaces that his toes spread across. The Nizhoni male shuffled along, his head down and wasabi eyes paying more attention to his feet than what lied up ahead.

It was on one of the occasional glances upward to watch his heading did Shikoba spot another individual on the shoreline. The younger male’s coloring was familiar, however, the form on which the Luperci took, was not. V…V… He searched his mind for a name. V…Virue? They had not really done much with one another, but, Shikoba recognized the Infernian from before he’d left the Clan in the summer.

Some part in the back of his mind reminded him of the gossip and rumor he’d heard when he’d first returned to the Clan earlier that month. Perhaps that was why seeing the limping male in a two-legged form looked both familiar yet alien.

Either way, Shikoba put a pep in his step upon seeing what the hobbling Infernian was slowly making his way towards. By the time the coymutt had reached Virue, however, the Sciens had already reached the abandoned cane. “Look like you’ve seen better days. What’cha in such a rush yer hoppin’ up so suddenly for anyway?” His wasabi eyes shifted curiously to the chair and paint-covered canvas on the easel.

Shikoba Whiplash

Inferni
Quintus (NPC)
User avatar
Songbird

Break me down

POSTED: Wed Nov 15, 2017 12:28 am

Virue

Perhaps it was the sounds of the bay expanding and contracting across its shores that sent him into a lull as he limped toward his cane. When he finally reached the carved piece of wood and pushed himself back to a straight standing position, he was surprised by a clan member. He groaned, but nevertheless looked toward the other with courtesy. He blinked back the throbbing of his ankle and opened his mouth. “Uh, I-I-I…” But the outside world was without words as so many swam around inside his head. He followed Shikoba’s eyes to his painting, and suddenly he felt so impossibly exposed. But he was glad the unwanted eyes were not looking at him instead.

The horrible sounds of agony pulled him back into pangs of sympathy for whatever creature cried out. Virue’s head snapped to the bulrushes, and his ears fell as his face was overtaken with an unpleasant frown. With a quick glance to the other Sciens, he began moving toward the shoreline as quickly as he could. His cane clacked on the shale, and fell awkwardly between the uneven surfaces, causing his injured foot to come down against the ground. The pain flared up the rest of his leg, the boy wincing and his eyes watering as he fought his way across the beach. He stopped before the long whiskers of pale green protruding from the sea-weed-clogged shore, and parted some of the foliage with his free hand, leaning on his cane. The screams were at their loudest now, and he could almost identify the bird based on its vocalizations. He saw a shape, and the dull sheen of blue feathers. With a closer look he saw glistening crimson blood wetting a shredded patch of feathers. Blue eyes stumbled across the twisted remains of a wing. Virue grimaced and his one hand fidgeted with the top of his cane. “Its...it’s a mallard…” He said in a pained voice. His head began to ache with foul memories of his childhood. The bird cried and shrieked, and with a sudden burst of vigour even flapped wildly in the weeds, but could not overcome its injury and take to the great, broad sky. By the looks of things, it never would.

ooc text [300+]

coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine
Inferni
Quintus (NPC)
User avatar
Daniel
Luperci Patrolman, Shepherd
light and match

POSTED: Sun Nov 26, 2017 11:50 pm

(+422)

The speckled-nosed hybrid groaned upon hearing Shikoba’s presence there on the pebbled shoreline. He wasn’t sure whether to grin or adopt a more concerned expression. Initially, he had considered teasing the younger male about how to treat company, however, it seemed almost mean to poke fun—even harmless fun—at a cripple that he barely knew. The guy had probably had enough trouble for a few months, no need to make his particular condition any more insufferable.

Words stuttered out of Virue’s mouth, but they were hardly comprehensible. Shikoba turned is gaze away from the painting and back to his clanmate, a brow raised and wondering how badly he had flustered the poor guy. There was a sound then, something that, while not spoken in their High Speech, was still easily translatable as a creature in pain. The two men shared a glance before Virue was on the go.

“Oi oi!” Shikoba barked after the tawny-furred, wasabi eyes widening a fraction when Virue’s hobbled gait faltered in his haste. The Whiplash jogged after the younger male. “Y’know, for a cripple, you sure do move fast,” he grumbled beneath his breath. His pace slowed when he was even with Virue, ready to help the Infernian should he need it.

His eyes followed to where Virue’s had been so quick to get off to. There, amongst a patch of beached seaweed was a bird—a duck if he remembered correctly—that flapped and cried out in a way that would have made any compassionate heart reach out for it. Shikoba frowned at the mangled wing, broken and bloody from whatever trauma that had led to it being grounded there.

Shikoba’s ears twitched to the younger Sciens’ words. “Mallard? It ain’t a duck?” Where he had grown up, there weren’t any ducks. He hadn’t learned the name of the waterfowl until his trip further east, and, even then, the lesser creatures had been rarely referred to as anything more specialized than their common name. Shikoba grimaced at the flapping bird. “What‘cha wanna do with it? With that wing, it ain’t ever gonna fly. I can uh…kill it, put it out of its misery?”

He didn’t know the guy, and, with his luck, the tawny male would be one of those super-sensitive types. Regardless, he didn’t try to approach the injured bird, not wanting to cause it any more stress by having a predator trying to catch it.

Shikoba Whiplash

Inferni
Quintus (NPC)
User avatar
Songbird

Break me down

POSTED: Fri Dec 22, 2017 4:51 am

Virue

All the boy wanted to do was pick up the bird and cradle it gently. To fix the wing and somehow let it know everything was going to be okay. But nothing was the same anymore. Everything was all twisted up and ruined like the wing that kept it aground. Virue stopped, and with a shuddering hand he reached through the bulrush toward the bird. Then it let out a horribly pained shriek, causing him to jerk his hand away. The boy looked down the beach, eyes drained of light in their melancholy. Across the shale and the soft roar of the waves, Virue spied his canvas, sitting there alone. Water and sky—and on paper something close, but never the same. Virue dropped his cane with a clatter, and sat down, ears pressing down against his head as it shook lightly from side to side. A few moments passed. He plucked a rock from beside him, hurled it into the bay as if trying to distract himself for even a moment before he had to address what was there in front of him. “When I w-was a kid…” he began, but he'd almost lost himself in such a statement right then and there. He spoke as if he were no longer a child, but Virue really didn't see himself as being anything much more than one. “I u-used to play by th-the banks in Mer Bleue, and…” he fidgeted, “there w-were mallards that w-would swim down th-the streams. I used t-to race them until…” He stopped, because what he was about to say was too much to speak about with someone he didn't really know.

He doubted he could tell just anyone about his past. That Virue would race mallards, sometimes to dawn, until his father came to take out frustrations on his son. Virue still had a scar on the back of his neck as proof of the cruelty Walker had shown him, but now there was more. More damage from someone else altogether, someone he didn't really know. He was walking around in a stranger’s two-legged body, raked with wounds that same stranger had given him. His reality was a nightmare that had been warded off feverishly with denial and distraction. Painting, and hoping somehow beneath all of the bandages there was nothing but himself—but he feared the Virue of the past was gone. “I used to l-love racing after those colours…” He recalled distantly, the sheen of feathers softly paddling down the banks touching his thoughts before his ears were tugged to life by avian cries. Then the feathers were torn and gored. Virue decided it was time to answer the other Sciens and do something, rather than letting the poor bird suffer further. “Y-yeah,” he agreed reluctantly. He staggered to a stand, swept his cane from the beach and as he hobbled past Shikoba he said, “C-carefully get the b-bird, I'm gonna...I'm gonna f-find a rock.” Then he began searching for something suitable enough to end its life quickly and as painlessly as possible. His stomach felt as though it were searching along with him, and Virue wondered if he'd throw up before finishing the task at hand.

sorry for the wait! [500+]

coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine
Inferni
Quintus (NPC)
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Daniel
Luperci Patrolman, Shepherd
light and match

POSTED: Thu Jan 04, 2018 12:34 pm

(+584)

We can wrap this up soon? :O

His wasabi eyes watched as Virue moved closer to the injured bird. It let out a shrieking cry when he reached out for it, perhaps to plead with the predator to either spare whatever miserable, short life it had left to live or end its misery. Either way, the sound had been enough to cause the coydog to retract his hand and focus his attentions elsewhere, namely, the bay. When the younger Infernian tossed out a stone into the rolling waters, Shikoba slowly sauntered over to where he sat amongst the beach’s stones.

Virue spoke as the Whiplash drew closer, speaking of a time before Inferni. He stuttered and fumbled over his words as he recalled the memory, and some part of Shikoba wondered if it was due to emotion or if it was a natural quirk. A place was named—one that Shikoba did not know—and the younger mentioned the ducks—mallards—and a fond moment he’d had with the waterfowl. When he trailed before the completion of his story though, Shikoba raised a brow in quiet wonder. He decided not to pry, even curious as he was to hear what had occurred at the end of the story.

The other Sciens went on instead to end his tale in a sort of nostalgic way. “They’re pretty birds,” Shikoba agreed, latching onto something he could comment on without perhaps treading into dangerous waters. “Where I grew up, I had uh…roadrunners?” He scratched his cheek as he tried to show that he could sort of relate to Virue. Shikoba wasn’t sure if the young male would know what the desert-region birds were though. “I guess that’d be the equivalent of what y’all got over here? They’re less pretty to look at, and they got these long skinny legs, neck, and tail, and do more runnin’ than they do flyin’.” Hopefully the little contribution to the conversation would keep it from spiraling into the “awkward” range of silence.

A cry from the briefly forgotten duck shattered their conversation, causing both men to look at the injured creature. The reminder seemed to spur Virue, and the male made a decision on what should be done. Getting to his feet, he hobbled by and told Shikoba what he wished to do with the bird. “Aye.” The Whiplash watched him search for a moment before turning his attention to the duck.

Moving towards it, the bird, instinctually, tried to move away. The seaweed had it firmly entangled though, and the Luperci was able to gather the squirming and quacking creature easily enough. It made a slur of distressed cries, trying to fight off the predator weakly as Shikoba gathered it in his arms. With its flat, blunt beak, it tried to bite at the Infernian up until the Whiplash gently grasped its neck to cease such actions.

It struggled and cried as Shikoba turned to follow after where Virue had moved to. After a bit, the bird seemed to realize it would not be able to escape the Luperci’s grip upon it, and it settled down, murmuring in its Low Speech in soft, high-pitched peeps. “You sure you wanna do this? I can…I can kill it if ya’ want me to.” He offered the coydog a way out. Shikoba had killed many things in his short lifetime, so, he would be less emotionally distraught over killing the bird than it looked like Virue might be.

Shikoba Whiplash

Inferni
Quintus (NPC)
User avatar
Songbird

Break me down

POSTED: Fri Jan 05, 2018 10:56 pm

Virue wasn’t familiar at all with the birds Shikoba talked about. He didn’t know that birds could run on roads. He looked to the other Sciens. Maybe if Virue had been a little younger his blue eyes would have went wide with wonder, and he would’ve asked Shikoba about such a strange thing, but he didn’t. Instead, his eyes came back to the bay as if they’d never wanted to leave, as if somewhere out there he would find a way to keep the mallard alive. It was supposed to be gone. It was supposed to have gone south. “I would’ve l-liked to have raced one of th-those,” the coydog said. It didn’t even matter how fast a roadrunner was, so he didn’t ask. When Virue was younger he raced everything, even if there was no way he would be able to catch up. Even if he couldn’t see what it was he was racing anymore.

The fresh air stirred as the wind blew in from the bay. Virue could feel the moisture building up in his fur, dampening his bandages. He thought for a moment he was bleeding again, and his heart jumped, but soon found rhythm again when he looked down to see white. White, not red.

When Virue left to find a rock, he began to feel immensely sick. His eyes scanned the beach. There were rocks everywhere, all around his feet, wherever his eyes roamed. Weapons surrounded him, but he still refused to acknowledge that almost all of them would work. That all of them would end a life in the right hands. Realizing that Shikoba had picked up the mallard and was heading his way, Virue stooped and plucked a rock that was larger than his palm. His stomach churned and he blinked, because he wanted it to feel awful but it didn’t. It fit so well in his hand, though he knew it was too large to throw, and much too lumpy to skip. ‘I can kill it if ya’ want me to’. “N-no,” he muttered. He glanced at the rock in his hand, and he thought he felt it pulse like some stone heart resting in his fingers. He took a deep breath, thinking of the painting, the whitecaps of the bay, and the frothy clouds that sat frozen there on his easel. It wasn’t perfection, but it was real, and reality didn’t sing as sweet as some want to believe. Sometimes it sounded like a bird screaming, pleading for mercy or death or both. Virue frowned, glanced at the real bay, with its unquantifiable colours and textures. He almost cursed. “P-put it d-down here,” he told the man, pointing at his feet. He knelt then, and decided that when the rock came down, he didn’t want to look.
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466 ooc here
coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine
Inferni
Quintus (NPC)
User avatar
Daniel
Luperci Patrolman, Shepherd
light and match

POSTED: Wed Jan 17, 2018 11:35 pm

(+512)


The mention of the roadrunner did little to help the coydog’s mood. He still looked glum as he stared out into the bay, speaking wistfully about wanting to race one of the desert birds of Shikoba’s youth. Well, it had been worth a try, and, at the very least, it seemed Shikoba’s attempt at keeping the freckle-snouted Sciens out of the awkward-conversation range had worked. “They’re fast little things, and they’d run ya’ into the ground. They’re like little horses but in bird form, can run for miles,” he continued, still trying to lighten the mood.

Virue denied passing the responsibility over to Shikoba, looking to be determined to carrying out the violent deed himself. It made the Whiplash’s respect for him grow. While it was obvious to anyone staring at the hobbling male that he did not want to do such an act upon the bird, he had been set to put the bird’s needs over his own feelings. The duck would only suffer if left on the beach, perhaps, to die a slow, agonizing death. If it were lucky, maybe another of their packmates or Kore would have wandered upon it and kill it. Lying on the rocky shore though, it stood a greater chance of drowning at high tide if left there.

Shikoba stood patiently with the duck tucked securely under his arm. He didn’t want to rush Virue and potentially cause him to be a nervous wreck for what he was about to commit to doing. If the coydog misjudged the power behind the rock and the bird did not meet an immediate death, the Whiplash was sure—with one-hundred percent certainty—that the mistake would haunt Virue for the rest of his life. Being calm and focused would keep his swing true, and would be what would give the bird the quickest and most humane release from its suffering.

When the bi-hued Sciens finally gathered his nerves, he directed Shikoba where to place the feathered creature. With a nod, he moved forth, kneeling and holding the duck out. It squirmed and quacked, struggling against his hold as if it realized what was about to come to pass. Shikoba’s grasp upon it remained firm though. He tucked the wings as best he could to the duck’s body, and, it’s head free, the bird reached around in a final attempt to fight for its agonizing life.

“Grab its neck, Virue. I’ll hold the body so it doesn’t move,” he told the blue-eyed Infernian as he put the duck down against the rocks. It was safer if Virue held the bird’s neck in place since he was the one driving the rock. It would make sure his aim was true. “Don’t hesitate when ya’ do it. Make it quick and make sure it’s enough to do the deed in one go, ‘else you’ll have to do it again.” And inevitably only make the bird’s pain worse.

Shikoba Whiplash

Inferni
Quintus (NPC)
User avatar
Songbird

Break me down

POSTED: Sun Jan 21, 2018 5:03 pm

It was ironic, what Shikoba had said. It seemed like popular belief that everything could run you into the ground. Virue recalled racing Narcisse’s packhorse, and winning. Rialu had looked on in disbelief as he finished first, panting and gasping, skidding to a stop, starry eyes awash with the exhilaration that came with a competition. The scout had the overbearing sense that he could beat a bird on the ground, just as certain as the fact that he would lose to one in the air. Virue was a runner, and if asked what it was he did, he would answer very simply that he was a runner and that he ran. And if asked how fast he would certainly note how far instead. Running was a distance game, because if you could not keep up that was one thing, but if you could last, that was a whole other.

The bird began to fight to free itself, going for Shikoba’s hands. Under Shikoba’s guidance, Virue took a firm hold on the Mallard’s neck, and brought its beak away from the man’s fingers. The beautiful white stripe that ringed its throat was covered by a tan hand, and it only made him feel worse. If he had not noticed it, he wouldn’t have thought about how they shared something in common. He wouldn’t have realized that they both had a stripe. It probably told it who its friends were, because Virue had always recognized another’s collie heritage from the stripes they bore. It had begun to move, trying to writhe free from the two predators that held it down. It still had the will to live, despite the fact that it could no longer fly. Maybe it just didn’t know, or perhaps didn’t know when to give up. If Virue was told he could no longer run, he probably would have tried to run anyway. The boy had the feeling that that is exactly what the Mallard was trying to do. It was trying to fly. The small Sciens respected that, in fact he cherished this bird’s fight, and in a way it was exactly why they needed to put it down.

Instructions came from Shikoba, who was trying to place some kind of stable presence on the helm. He didn’t fully trust Virue’s resolve, and that was understandable. With a quick nod, affirming that he considered the other’s advice, he lifted the rock carefully. Virue watched the sheen of the Mallard’s green head glint over the dull rocky shore. It was vibrant life amongst lifelessness. He couldn’t hesitate. It was like the start of a race, standing there awaiting the signal. When the time finally came to start, you didn’t wait, you just sprung forward and carried yourself where you needed to go. You just ran. Virue swung down hard, aiming at that shiny, jade head. He heard something between a crack and a distinct smushing, and his eyes pinched shut as his ears fell back. His head turned toward the bay, remembering all the times he’d ran alongside its shores, speeding along like nothing could possibly slow him down; or when he’d thrown rocks at its icy surfaces with Clover so long ago, trying to figure out why bad things happened.

Virue sighed, then stood. He felt the heft of the now-wet stone there in his trembling hand, and without a second thought he chucked it out into the unsettling waters. He thought, maybe there in the depths it could be washed clean. Virue finally looked down at what he’d done. He didn’t smile, but nor did he frown. It reminded him of that time he’d fetched that knife for Izual to kill that mad sheep in the corral. It was merciful, and needed to be done, but that didn’t stop Virue from feeling sorry. Always sorry. He thought about maybe putting the Mallard’s body in the water to float across the bay, but then his eyes caught something near the bulrush again. It was small and quick, and for one second Virue got the powerful urge to give chase. He stooped, picked up his cane, and clattered his way over. It leapt from the green, trying to take flight, but Virue leapt as well. He snatched it from its erratic hovering there in the wind, and they both came crashing down onto the shoreline. The cold water splashed into Virue’s eyes, and sent chills through his shoulder and back, out to the rest of his skinny body, but he grinned because he’d caught it. He raised his hand into the air as a wave licked his backside, making his teeth chatter, but he didn’t care. Because he had a beautiful Mallard feather. The same one he’d chased as a child, and dreamt about in the marshlands of his childhood home. There in his hand was what he had been, and more importantly, what he could become. He half-stood, and hobbled away from the ice-water shore, glancing to where he’d dropped his cane in the midst of his mad dive. He noticed his bandages were soaked, and would need to be changed, but again, he didn’t really mind. He flashed a toothy little grin at the other Sciens, who had likely watched the entirety of his odd display.

“G-got it,” Virue confirmed, a little solemnly, holding up the feather as he twirled it between his fingers. Making it dance. “I’m r-really cold now, though. You th-think m-maybe we can put the Mallard in the w-water and c-call it a day?” He asked. His eyes went to his easel again, further down the beach. It was facing forward as if it were surveying the waters itself, trying to find the best likeness of the bay to capture. “I th-think I need to add something t-to that painting, now,” the boy decided after some thought. Being as distracted as he was, in so many places at once, he began his journey toward the easel with one last empathetic look at the dead Mallard. He picked up his cane on the way, and that made the walk easier on his foot. As Virue walked, he studied the colours and sheen of the feather in his hand, wondering how they could live in such perfect harmony on such a small object. He thought the same way with his paintings, and a part of him wanted to find that same harmony in what he painted. Though, he knew that would be impossible, but he could always imagine.
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1083 The last three paragraphs have what you need lol (sorry for 1k post but SoSuuu)
coming out of my cage and I've been doing just fine
Inferni
Quintus (NPC)
User avatar
Daniel
Luperci Patrolman, Shepherd
light and match

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