| Subject: E.n.t.r.a.n.c.e. |
Author:
S.t.o.v.a.t.i.
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Date Posted: 19:32:58 05/26/02 Sun
Author Host/IP: 64.12.102.168
In reply to:
Charring
's message, "¤entereth¤" on 14:09:32 05/21/02 Tue
Filly trots t'ward steed. Head, once high in defiance, lowers in submission as she nears. Slows and halts near him. Voice cracks. Detruisent, Sir, I am very sorry. I never meant to desert you. I know you do not need me, but I beg of you to take me back. Head lowers more, waiting the punishing, perhaps fatal, blow she is sure to recieve.
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