Here, I speak of my country.
I tend its filaments, casting forward, and with it myself, ethereal and genteel. No surrender. Not for this land of black sets and stalkers. Desire falls upon its arching back, replenished by supplication. No flag for equus. No matriarch.
Ryan (smiling)
I tend its filaments, casting forward, and with it myself, ethereal and genteel. No surrender. Not for this land of black sets and stalkers. Desire falls upon its arching back, replenished by supplication. No flag for equus. No matriarch.
Ryan (smiling)
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