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Bound by a Thread Ch.11((A small chuckle escaped me at the question. "Why, you're in my dwelling."))
Link stared wide eyed as he looked around Ghirahim's room.
"Y-Your home?" He asked in surprise. Ghirahim nodded, picking up a bottle with a dark red fluid in it from the bedside table. The blonde tried to sit up, propping himself up slightly with the pillows.
"What's that?" He asked as Ghirahim handed it to him.
"Drink it." Ghirahim said sternly as he began to take off the bandages on Link's legs. Link swirled the liquid in the bottle for a moment before lifting it to his lips and drinking it all. He looked down at the bruises and small cuts on his legs and watched as they began to vanish before his eyes.
"See? Just a potion. I'd heal you but it hurts in the beginning and well,I don't want you to feel any more pain." Ghirahim explained, beginning to take off the rest of Link's banda
Bound by a Thread Ch.10I awoke the next morning groggy, my limbs entwined with Link's. he must have woken up earlier than I did, seeing as I caught him staring at me. He quickly moved his hands from my face to my chest.
"Good morning..."I purred, kissing him lightly and hugging him. Link's face flushed red, but hugged me back the best be could while we were on our sides. We got up and it was the same as every morning; we'd chat without any real basis and get dressed, although I couldn't find my gloves. I disregarded the missing garment for the moment to speak with Link, wrapping my arms around him as he snaked his arms around my neck.
"So where must you go now?" I asked. I'll ask him this every two or three days. Link gulped, his eyes looking anywhere but mine as he spoke.
"I...uh...I need to find another song so I can gain access to the place that will allow me to...uh...eradicate Demise..." He spoke softly as he finished, gaining a nervous look on h
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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