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Your eyes are like splashes of oil. Sometimes Kaede read her lines aloud to him and Kotetsu imagined himself in the thick armour of a medieval knight, his hair too dirty, liver too yellow, kneeling at the stone temple of a goddess that looked like Barnaby and refused to bless any of Kotetsu’s quests for the sole reason that he was a poor knight and, therefore, perfect to keep by one's side.
or,
heroes never die but they do grow old. -
Bookmark Notes:
so cool so cool so cool
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