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Chapter 28: Ch-: Vothanael
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... tanding at the window since before the stone that made it was quarried.
Roman dawn doing its best attempt at warmth, which was never quite enough -- the light pressing through the high corridor glass in long pale fingers that smelled faintly of the city waking, petrichor and bread, and fell just short of warm.
He had been making his peace with almost for long enough that peace was the wrong word for it.
More like a standing arrangement.
The window, the almost-ligh ...
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