Placeholder: I could feel hot flames of fire roaring at my back As she disappeared, but soon she returned In her hand was a bottle of wine In the other, a glass She poured some of the wine from the bottle into the glass And raised it to her lips And just before she drank it She said I could feel hot flames of fire roaring at my back As she disappeared, but soon she returned In her hand was a bottle of wine In the other, a glass She poured some of the wine from the bottle into the glass And raised it to her lips And just before she drank it She said

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I could feel hot flames of fire roaring at my back As she disappeared, but soon she returned In her hand was a bottle of wine In the other, a glass She poured some of the wine from the bottle into the glass And raised it to her lips And just before she drank it She said

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16 days ago

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SSD-1B

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I could feel hot flames of fire roaring at my back As she disappeared, but soon she returned In her hand was a bottle of wine In the other, a glass She poured some of the wine from the bottle into the glass And raised it to her lips And just before she drank it She said
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I could feel hot flames of fire roaring at my back As she disappeared, but soon she returned In her hand was a bottle of wine In the other, a glass She poured some of the wine from the bottle into the glass And raised it to her lips And just before she drank it She said
The Dark Lord's Granddaughter is a witch with her bloody fangs, covered by tattoos and lace agent provocateur dress [vintage style noisy scratches glitches, Shot the texture and then rewound the film and double exposed from a 1970 B series movie] in the forest in front of her Hutt with her pointed hat
Beware of the beautiful promises hidden behind the mask. Some promises, just like some beauty, bring nothing but sorrow, regardless of how appealing they may be.
all is dark, blood and smoke and battle: the princess, where the flickering candlelight cast shadows that danced across the stone walls, a sense of unease hung heavy in the air. The princess, dressed in a quick white cotton agent provocateur set, stood by the open window, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and anticipation. As she gazed out into the moonlit courtyard , she has to fight for her life
all is dark, blood and smoke and battle: the princess, where the flickering candlelight cast shadows that danced across the stone walls, a sense of unease hung heavy in the air. The princess, dressed in a delicate white cotton undergarment agent provocateur set, stood by the open window, her heart racing with a mixture of fear and anticipation. As she gazed out into the moonlit courtyard filled with nobles, soldiers, and citizens, a shiver ran down her spine. The weight of her royal duties pres
Sister Magda: Enters the room with an air of serenity, her eyes gleaming with a hint of mystery. She observes Dahlia and Beverly, a faint smile playing on her lips. Ah, Dahlia Death and Beverly Grove, two intriguing souls brought together by the machinations of fate. What brings you both into the depths of this clandestine meeting? Beverly Grove: Tenses slightly, eyeing Sister Magda warily. Sister Magda, forgive me if I approach this meeting with caution. The Order's secrets have caused immense
Beverly Grove: Eyes widened with determination I won't be swayed by their tricks. I've seen the harm they inflict, the lives shattered in their wake. They must be held accountable. Innocent people have suffered, their souls trapped in the clutches of their malevolent rituals. Dahlia Death: A hint of sadness in her voice Indeed, the Order's actions have consequences that ripple through the realms of the living and the dead. But know this, Beverly, they are cunning and well-guarded. Unmasking them
[she is Media] "Look at me," she commands softly, and you do. Her eyes glow faintly green in the dim light of the car interior, pupils contracted to pinpricks of black. Her lips part slightly, revealing teeth that catch the glow of the dashboard lights."In this moment," she whispers, her voice carrying that strange undercurrent now, "I am what you want me to be." Her coat falls open further, revealing more of her exposed chest. Her skin is flawless, almost marble-like under your fingertips, yet
[artistic photo by Tony Kent (1980)] a brunette in a car bends over to look at the camera, she is going to a party, she has a cigarette
Sister Magda: Steps closer, her voice tinged with conviction. Beverly, Dahlia, we must be vigilant, united in our pursuit of truth and justice. The Order's web of deception is vast, but together, we possess the strength to unravel it. Trust, though earned cautiously, can become a powerful weapon against those who seek to exploit the innocent. Dahlia Death: Nods, her voice resonating with a touch of solemnity. Sister Magda, your words hold weight, and I sense a genuine desire for change within yo
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