Sir Grian.
grianesque
Jusqu’à la fin, en plein soleil. Thunder turned frigid once I embraced it—Darling, I’m the sun—the son of all I’ve done.
I’m no dark forest, nor you’re a deer often lost within the woods, enveloped by the dusk solely for a peck of novelty. Fret not, a grain of curiosity won’t perish and delude a soul over here, so do not hesitate to smack that “Ask” button.
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