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The brooding stones, the tired teeth, the swirling snow, long shadows and enemy hours and how upon the wall a nightmare unfolds in a collage of ice and firelight. Resting there, atop an edifice amidst company yet alone, stars, the smell of smoke, the swirl of fog. The sword is the only thing that seems real, and dead the dream of home.
Category Story / All
Species Unspecified / Any
Size 50 x 50px
File Size 497 B
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