((SCREENED FROM ANYONE WHO SHARES THE NAME OF FEY))
血
Such a simple character, and so much can be read into it, good sirs.
I hardly wanted to paint an egg, anyhow.
I hope everyone else enjoyed their Easter.
(screened from ALL from here out)
I have not been sleeping well. I close my eyes and see my precious Pearl. I dream of her impaled on the shichishito, and I awaken as cold as death myself. There is no tea that can warm me.
Mr Armando's words fester inside me. It is true what he said, he would have killed anyone standing before him as Dahlia. He had no means of knowing it was not Pearl; were it not for Misty, my daughter would have died instead. And that, too, festers in my cold breast. Mystic Misty saved my child. Mystic Misty, who wasted my life and my honour, has saved Pearl's life in turn, and I don't understand what is between us anymore.
What did you mean by this, Misty? Were you making amends for stealing my title, for bringing shame on the clan, for abandoning your children? Or is this a debt I now owe you-- a debt of immeasurable magnitude for the child I value immeasurably?
Or perhaps you did not even contemplate the value of what you did. Did you rush into your doom the same way you barreled into that case, the same way you thoughtlessly dropped everything to run and hide from your own shame? There are so many facets, Misty, that have nothing to do with my daughter, or yours.
But one facet is crystal clear: if you had not meddled, neither you or the bloodthirsty blind man would have been there-- and that, my dear, is of great import to this valuation.
Such a simple character, and so much can be read into it, good sirs.
I hardly wanted to paint an egg, anyhow.
I hope everyone else enjoyed their Easter.
(screened from ALL from here out)
I have not been sleeping well. I close my eyes and see my precious Pearl. I dream of her impaled on the shichishito, and I awaken as cold as death myself. There is no tea that can warm me.
Mr Armando's words fester inside me. It is true what he said, he would have killed anyone standing before him as Dahlia. He had no means of knowing it was not Pearl; were it not for Misty, my daughter would have died instead. And that, too, festers in my cold breast. Mystic Misty saved my child. Mystic Misty, who wasted my life and my honour, has saved Pearl's life in turn, and I don't understand what is between us anymore.
What did you mean by this, Misty? Were you making amends for stealing my title, for bringing shame on the clan, for abandoning your children? Or is this a debt I now owe you-- a debt of immeasurable magnitude for the child I value immeasurably?
Or perhaps you did not even contemplate the value of what you did. Did you rush into your doom the same way you barreled into that case, the same way you thoughtlessly dropped everything to run and hide from your own shame? There are so many facets, Misty, that have nothing to do with my daughter, or yours.
But one facet is crystal clear: if you had not meddled, neither you or the bloodthirsty blind man would have been there-- and that, my dear, is of great import to this valuation.