Otter Creek honigsüß

This man had an aura and allure to him the ashen could not quite yet understand. Gruff but warm, unlike the cold stare of the bane of winter, he followed without dithering. It ailed him the leave the domains of water, a fear he was not willing to conquer at this time. the man explained to him how long he had done without speaking the hevy chants of his old tongue. ❝ Für mich selbst? Ich habe keine Ahnung, wie lange ich ohne Sprache war, ❞ the stricken hums in reply, simply enjoying the air, the light, the company.

Mahler.

It suited him like silk gowns on a newly appointed queen, still rich and shimmering with delicacy and yet strength welded into its roots. ❝ . . . Ich habe keinen Titel, ❞  they realize slowly, forgetting, interesting.❝ Gib mir eins?, ❞ whe almost jests, but for somethign as strong ans mahler to come form the thane's lips and dub him, maybe he would ahve strenght and allure like him as well.