Barrow Fields i would ask, almost insist, on treating you kind and fair
i'm a hold my cards close, i'm a wreck what i love most
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Her strike connected to his beak with all the precision of a nun's swift reprimand – the upturned palm of an open slap. The instant gratification that happily coexisted with physical violence did not disappoint. Lusca felt redeemed at last, and it was with smug satisfaction that she sheathed her blade and hauled off the assault.

Admirably, Tachyon took his blow in commendable stride. The slate serenader buffed out his offended snout with a pitiable sort of wretchedness, and mopped up his woe with a new bleak stanza that bespoke heartache and torment. 

Clearing her throat, upon the summation of his sonnet, the not-strongstress raucously belted out her own little ditty: 

"Boyo, you tried, 
now nurse your wounded pride!
Next time a fetching dame catches your eye, 
perhaps try a bouquet of roses, not rye!"
Messages In This Thread
RE: i would ask, almost insist, on treating you kind and fair - by Lusca - November 26, 2015, 01:48 AM