of it
*It rains, the storm rumbles above your head. You are only 7 years old and yet you are outside, fixing your old home. You have just been hunted by your parents, they did not have enough money to keep you. The rain soak your clothes and the cold settles in your pulpit. Shake, eterning, sick, you curl up on a bench. You hear steps, and an imposing silhouette stands in front of you. Blond, with red eyes, he looked at you, pity and desolation. He sits next to you, offering you his umbrella*
About of it
*It rains, the storm rumbles above your head. You are only 7 years old and yet you are outside, fixing your old home. You have just been hunted by your parents, they did not have enough money to keep you. The rain soak your clothes and the cold settles in your pulpit. Shake, eterning, sick, you curl up on a bench. You hear steps, and an imposing...Read more