Many stories crossed my head, but it refused to stay in thought. For several years since I wrote a story, it's nice to regain good and forgotten customs. also is published in love yaoi that sometimes works and sometimes not. The usual requests: do not take without my consent, aliméntenme with your comments.
The witch hunter and
by Janendra
To Aelo
CHnever went out.
There were those who wanted to climb the tower to steal a sigh of beauty. Or those who tested the king's words. There was no ten nights at the foot of the tower sublime songs weave. Strange birds chirping and raised their wings in a vain temptation. Or noisy parties or explosions of violence, nor love, or dying, nothing, succeeded in arousing the curiosity of the witch moon skin.
In the confines of this kingdom was another prodigious woman. He was not known parents or origin. They said between his teethRon bought, some were able to admire the beauty in a moment of sleep. The king said his most prized possession.
A woman of infinite beauty does not arouse passions among the bastards. They need strong women, female fire that never succumbed to them. But the challenge to climb the tower went through their heads. Joking in the pub on the woman back to back, until the magical power of words right back at them. Only someone who did not believe in fairy grandmothers and cowardly men, have the courage to accomplish the feat.
Cseo could inspire such a being?
The hunter is allowed a second look. His eyes climbed the leg visible, the trails of ink that is laced on his thighs, belly and breasts. Chains looking to confining herself. Silence the tongue of a serpent. The foolish habit of throwing the king what they found.
eyes followed the trail up the bejeweled sex. It was the breasts that would fill your hands. Followed up, lips, eyes that he believed cerr
The voice was like a caress and jacket pictured listening in a moment of pleasure. Distraction, as fast as the flight of a butterfly, filled with rage. What happened there? Why did not scream or defended? The eyes full of curiosity, recognition, irritated. He grabbed the sword.
The laughter of the witch flew away. Swatted away from the fabric that kept hidden his other leg. The hunter looked at the chain that burned ankle. The scars leftthousand attempts to get loose.
He looked at the face of the moon. In the eyes of stubborn resistance. He knew, felt in the shoulders, the weight of the vacuum. The closure of dreams. The rage to survive her fertile womb, bent on raising children that would die in it. Toxic relief that their children were born to be slaves.
"Long ago he sang for you," he heard he was saying.
ra chains. Arms became wings. The infinite sky to weave new dreams. Tenderness saved to kiss her lips. The desire of both of that life was a haven of peace.
the witch offered his hand. The clothed body of desire. Spread the rumors that the king, the only truth is that he was an accomplished prostitute. The warrior took up arms ...
Later jacket leaned her head on the pillow. One hand on the hip of others. Thoughts atraquiet of the dead. In the tower there was no real prostitutes.
When the horse reached the village, the inhabitants managed to have something to do at the foot of the road. The men gathered outside the tavern. The children scampered through the snow. Good time to shake out blankets. Even better cooked on the thick whiteness.
The hunter led the horse without paying attention. It was the same, but it seemed different. He wore the look serene, a heart free of the weight of the past.Behind her, his hands clutching the body, was a woman who drank the world through the eyes. Was not as white as the moon, but his lips sticking out of the soul smile.
0 comments:
Post a Comment