Ten thousand of your children perished in my palm, Your Grace. Whilst you snored, I would lick your sons off my face and fingers one by one, all those pale sticky princes. You claimed your rights, my lord, but in the darkness I would eat your heirs.
(Fonte: glorianas)
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A Fine Day To Die
Orgy of silence,conspiracy of peace,
only the sound, of the cold northern breeze..
only the sound, of the cold northern breeze..






