by ~Phantasos~ » Wed Mar 05, 2014 3:18 am
Soldier frowned. "It's getting late and cold." He muttered,staring outside at the fading light.
Cohen's cell rang loudly and Soldier jumped slightly then growled in frustration.
"And dreams in their development have breath,and tears,and tortures,and the touch of joy; they leave a weight upon our waking thoughts,they take a weight from off our waking toils,they do divide our being."