Sawtooth Spire unzureichend

"schnee ist wie weiße wasserstücke aus der luft," mahler murmured, but phaedra soon came alight. he would revisit the notion of the pale flakes at another time; for now he was only caressed with relief to see her exuberant reaction to the little circle of fiercely-working spinnerets.
that she had pulled away from him pained mahler; but he would not press affections upon her. she knew the word of his love; the gargoyle only need ensure he worked toward the provision of it in his actions.
the spiders scurried to and fro as he led the bairn into their midst, from time to time lifting mandibles with inaudible clicking toward the giant child in their world, and the greater beast alongside her. mahler motioned to where one of them had climbed a tall stalk of clover, and released a thread into the air, which dazzled in expert glow as it caught tight to another violet.
"sie baut einen weiteren palast," the man remarked, gazing down toward phaedra. if he could evoke a single smile from her small, overwrought face, he would be relieved and pleased until the end of this coming era.