She knows him as Death, in any language. But not a cruel personification, not an end, just a shadow that burned. Had never said one cold word to her, had never been anything but the utmost gentleman. He wanted her alive, needed her warmth. Friendliness and wisdom of dwarfs, the humor and spunk of gnomes, and pragmatism and practicality of humans were not what she needed right now. She doubted herself; and to be safe, she superstitiously spilled salt on the sepulcher’s threshold. This would protect her from harm, and maybe, grant her wish. She missed him. That was all.
Hooa! wow! that is a sweet pic!! and i don't miss the game, i miss the company. will see you soon miss (in the game anyways)
ReplyDeleteHooa yourself, smartypants! :) Just check in on that rogue when you can--she's been selling everything at garage sales in Goldshire.
ReplyDeleteAnd, as far as the pic goes - I honestly don't remember where I got it, and it's driving me nuts. I take so many screen shots, but the staff looks unfamiliar, unless it's from old content play time. I am pretty sure I took this, but I'll be damned if I can place it. It is obviously (nod to Red Shirt Guy) from Netherstorm, and I did do some old dungeons there a few months ago, and got a beautiful staff. I held onto it...I think. With the new 4.3 changes, I am sure I'm going to be rummaging through a lot of old bags and closet spaces to see what I have.
ReplyDeletei know where you got that staff but i'm not gonna tell you (na na na naaaaaaaaa na!) time to go to bed. sweet dreams miss.
ReplyDeleteYou. Are. A. Brat.
ReplyDeletePrepare to be pinched upon your return, Senor! :)