Wheeling Gull Isle shāzhōu de kāifàng

ying was irate, and asmodeus liked the simmer of sea-salt beneath her gunmetal pelt, but it would be in his best interest to soothe the kraken of her wrath. "oh, i get to pick?" asmodeus responded to her tones, colorless eyes meeting the icy ocean turquoise of her own.

"hmm," the man rumbled, pretending to think very firmly upon the matter as he approached ying, stopping some small distance away. "i think you deserve a kiss for your good game."