Arrow Lake atemlos

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"i always shall, takiyok," mahler whispered in a rusted voice, drawing her near and laying his muzzle o'ertop her own. though they might not be able to converge in the ways she would have liked, there was catharsis in this. it was raw, necessary; the gargoyle closed his weary eyes and put aside all contemplations, existing with the winterwhite in a moment curated solely for the two of them.