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Summary
Ink sat in an ally of some surface building of a classic pacifist timeline. The child in his arms was asleep, still breathing. He hoped the cold didn't bother the poor thing. He turned his head to the sound of crunching snow.
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or
christmas drabble about Ink and Tapestry that i forgot to post and i also hate it cuz it's shitSeries
- Part 1 of Stained Tapestries
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