[001] [text]
In my home, this would be heresy. You skin the trees and use their flesh to write when you are surrounded by perfectly good rock. I admit that I do not understand the waste.
Or why your Keep is so cold. Your sun hides during the day, but why? This, too, I do not understand.
I see you, Deior, and so you are seen by Alom. You took what She has borne. She is a mother, and you seized Her children. This She will not forget.
Or why your Keep is so cold. Your sun hides during the day, but why? This, too, I do not understand.
I see you, Deior, and so you are seen by Alom. You took what She has borne. She is a mother, and you seized Her children. This She will not forget.