by ~Phantasos~ » Thu Mar 06, 2014 3:33 am
Chance turned around with a smirk. "You've lost your touch."
As night settled over the town,Arwen hurried to find shelter for the night. She finally settled behind several wooden barrels which would shield her from sight.
"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."