Sir Ribald chuckled as he stepped further into the drawing room, stirring up little flurries of dust as he went. His eyes quickly grew accustomed to the dim light. A cache of international treasures cluttered the study's tables and cabinet shelves. A mid-seventeenth-century Qing Dynasty sabre; the cartographer's compass of Marc Lescabot himself
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I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;
But or ever a prayer had gusht,
A wicked whisper came, and made
My heart as dry as dust.
Your story is fascinating. Post and post often.
Y/f
Fox
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I mean... I know you are, and I do like to read... But I swear all I get when you write about this Lady, or Good Sir So-and-so is:
Lady fair's hair was golden as she blah blah blah blah......
or
The trees whistled in the slight breeze seeming to quietly cheer as [insert rugged, sensitive yet overwhelmingly attractive and succesful manhood here} rode in on his noble steed. His blah blah blah.....
I dunno.... Maybe Im defective. Or maybe I lose interest when you show lack of concern for real-life happenings. What have you written about Lily?
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And for the record, "A Moment Too Soon" was designed to mimic corny British literature, in that it is both paid-by-the-page verbose, melodramatic, and absurd.
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Get back to me whenever you can, this is a good source to contact me at.
Have fun.
Megan
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