Always a curtain of darkness, but the soft cloth against your eyes is a pleasant comfort. The same aromas from before, the tang of metal, the musty scent of aged leather, and the hot dry smell of fire. You feel the gentle sway as you hang suspended from structures unknown. You’re wrapped in soft silken cords, each one firmly hugging your torso,
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Thank you for writing - please don´t ever stop! (not putting pressure on you or something..LOL)
*hugs*
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Sorry to say there's no priestly Crowley in this fic, beastly maybe. ;) lol but yes, I can't wait to see what happens in Season 11. ^_^
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