A small, tan coloured book, completely unadorned. The binding is worn and aged, the pages slightly tattered and curling towards the edges. Several small notes peek out here and there from between the sheaves of parchment and pieces of torn blue silk mark places within.
Monday, 15 September 2014
It is not the same. Not for me anyway. One attracts me like a moth to a flame, the other is as merely a dream. When I find both in one, it will be the end of me.
Celestia posted @ 19:50 -
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