Roshan walks with the two Potts, gazing around at the fields and forests painted in warm colors by the setting sun. He remarks, "It is a lovely view from here."
Gazing outward, past the broken walls he had put up 20 years ago, Arthund nods and says, "Forgot. Forgot how... how pretty it all is."
I recently finished running an original oneshot for some friends, The Reaching Woods. It was a story about a little village surrounded by a big wall and the nearby forest's sudden overgrowth threatening to crush it all. It was also a story about blame and guilt.
Arthund Potts, when we met him, could barely speak at all. Too many years spent drinking and weeping. If he was even conscious he was all grunts and sloppy gestures. The scene above was at the end of the oneshot (okay, eighteenshot), once the party returned from the dark, evil woods.
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Red.
Your lips.
Your hands.
My chest.
You are my angel of destruction.
So breathtakingly covered in blood.
And while you devoure my heart,
I am on my knees in front of you.
Looking up to you and praying for your love.
Let me be a part of you.
Let me be yours for eternity.
And so I shall die a thousand times as long as it's your hands that take my life.
As long as it’s your arms that hold me while I take one painfully last breath.
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Have to be a good dad to your army of 120 000 evil vampires.
Give your army of 120 000 evil vampires a Fine Arts education.
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just saw someone call charles leclerc daddy. no that's my weird hot little brother at best. oh my god am i old.
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hmmmhhehhrrkgmg what’s your thoughts on the topic of romantic cannibalism????? i think it’s wonderful :3
SANKYU for shedding light on this topic.
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