The blue reaper_when you give back_Love is Love_Albany?
Catalog Guide:
The blue reaper
Typically, when one finds a man half buried in mud on a battlefield, it would be unwise to attempt to inspect the body. Not even as the chest shifted and sighed amidst the silence after.Tyr was not one of such senswww.onedoor.cce, especially within the circumstances he found himself in. In between bodies and metal armor alike hacked through, all cold and stinking of rust and decay, one grey body was mostly unharmed, save for healing bruises. Tyr almost walked over the body had he not noticed a large, blue-tinted thorn in the ground moving. Tyr felt around it, somewhat surprised to find hair, a whole horned...
when you give back
This was such a bad idea. what was I thinking, she hissed quietly, as to not disturb the forest life with human sounds. Although it was useless to try to make as little sound as she could, this forest had ears everywhere, and even the soft green moss would not cover her loud running steps, never give her any cover. Nature was against her, and the sooner she realized that the better. She could trust no one but herself. Amarantha would find shelter with or without nature's help. She had to. she continued walking through the trees. she needed to find shelter before sunset, and the sky was fad...
Love is Love
I didn’t notice the sky lightening at first. One moment, the air was inky blue so dark it was almost black and the only sounds were crickets and the occasional night creature scurrying to its bed at last. Then the next, the horizon began to simmer and the sounds of dawn stirred. Birds sang and flying insects rose, accompanied by an almost audible sigh, as if the entire earth were stretching awake. An irrational part of me was drawn forward toward the intensifying light as the molten orange corona burned over the low mountains in the distance. It had been so long since I’d felt the sun’s heat ...
Albany?
It’s haunted here. I don’t know if they believe me, though. I don’t think it’s haunted in the way one would expect. None of the ghosts will listen to me when I talk to them, or shout at them, or scream at them in the middle of the night when it seems I’ve lost my mind. And maybe I have lost my mind. I wouldn’t know. I should be used to this, you know. I should be a lot of things, but it seems that I am nothing in the eyes of both myself and those who wander the corridors ceaselessly. I wonder about them. The ghosts seem so tired, and the look in their eyes belongs to those who are in chains ye...