sound the bugle now

amalia chandrakant there is a color that shines through your skin Like the moon on the wind Is this her redemption? It doesn't feel like it- Frey's purr feels dangerous, like a sharp blade on her skin. But there is appeal in the escape of danger, and Amalia is desperate, hungry for meaning in the face of her mistakes. Were she in a better state of mind the girl might have hesitated, paused and thought about what it could mean. Frey is paid in orgasms. Frey has no care for mortal struggles. Frey is not invested in the Spire, the walls. She wishes it were Safrin here to guide her. But her goddess did not answer, and Amalia is alone. Amalia turns her gaze back to Frey, desperation and desolation mixed with passion in her eyes. "If it will help," she replies, her voice stronger than before, fueled by a last desperate burst of fire, a need for purpose, for redemption, for love. "I will do anything." the night is full on behalf or your evaded mask And the rings round your eyes

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