The Thirteenth Throne

Pierre's Diary

Oh, Fair Tryna, to call your voice like the sweetest harp is to grant unworthy laurels upon harps, which sound drab and hateful in unworthy comparison to that which flows from your lips. Lips so fair none but your own face could match their radiance, with heavn’ly cheek and brow and eye. Great Menoth destined we meet that fateful day, and I swear upon his holy Wall I shall find the true culprit and clear your name! One such as you must be free, and it is the hope for this that fuels me in these darkened days of life. I am ever surrounded by Thamarites, ever embattled by their schemes, yet I would do so til the end of time for your favor. Dear Tryna, Fair Tryna, even the flowers themselves seem dull to me, who has beheld your beauty with his own gaze…

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swoon

Pierre's Diary
JetWong runesoldierdan

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