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Войти при помощи

nightminds



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Post 3.22.

It is later; she is numb with emotion and with whiskey.

She sits in front of the fire (because she is, and will always be, one to live inside her pain until the feeling becomes too much to bear) and she stares at the heart in her hands, less black than it used to be, thumping rhythmically with all of the defiance of a muscle hell-bent on betraying her.



СсылкаПереводчикСтатус
http://ficbook.net/readfic/1997416Elika Z.Закончен
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