Barrow Fields and all the world was devils

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armand laughed, a mad, glittering sound that tolled above their heads at the other's flattery. and still it touched his heart, that this odd and lovely creature should find succor in his voice. "death does not mind," he told the other, "and the color death gives is scarlet." for he was merely a whore, like a wandering strumpet cast from her servicebed like so much flotsam. the gaze of this wolf, young but with agelessness behind his vivid eyes — armand drew hope and strength from this vision. "are you the pilgrim come to seek death?" the auburn child whispered in inquiry. he saw no such intentions in his fellow, but armand had been incorrect before.[/tr][/td][/table]