Don't you think it's a small mystery that birds can twitter so loudly that they can hear each other's song from several miles away? Those tiny bundles are like living flutes, playing non-stop on themselves.
I wonder whether the Christmas feeling has anything to do with the sixth sense. Perhaps we're a little more the angels at Christmas than we are during the rest of the year. And Christmas is about all the other senses. I can smell Christmas, I can tas...
Fire and water, logic and reason—those footholds of reality that you mortals hold so near and dear become like so much mist on the plains of the dreamscape.
Solus walked over to the young brown-haired man and grabbed him by the front of his shirt, ignoring the look of panic he received in return. "You can call me Solus." His golden eyes trailed meaningfully down the mortal's body before he added, softly,...
Evil is nothing more than that, which was once divine, and has fallen into shit." Indrid Night - Through A Glass Darkly.
