Date: 2006-09-27 02:37 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] canadiansixpack.livejournal.com
Her consort, her shadow, her constant, melts into the tepid darkness, sparing naught but the most calculated of looks for his queen's captive; now, the scent of fresh prey is writhing in the air, and it calls to them as sweetly as the siren's song.
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Elseworld Exiles

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