If they entered a shop, he paused by the doorway, as if waiting for the journey to be resumed. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked. "Your voice seems familiar to me—and—but I'm getting a little deaf—and my eyes don't serve me quite so well as they used to do, especially by this light. The Matriarchate! The Lords of Creation just ran about and did what they were told. A simple wooden monument was placed over the grave, but without any name or date. Not a word passed between them.
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