Fire burn, and cauldron bubble

The perfume. The glory. Oh how it all came back to her damaged mind. The broken, how they will crumble on their feet for their family was reunite. Cry teasr of fucking joy. Cry tears of fucking blood fore the Klein Empire will raise for the ashes like the might pheonix; they shall rebuild what they lost, they shall inhabit these lands and conquer them as their own. Rule with an iron fist but who, oh who, will rule them? The spider-witch can not completed her mission, she has not found the heir of thei Empire and that brough sorrow to her heart, it wounded her, moved her deep inside her fragile bones. Hannibal, Hannibal, where art thou?

He will be here soon.

Who?

Him.

Who will be here?

The scent hit her like a wreacking ball. Sweet, masculint and potent. Oh it was a Klien alright but from where. Where are you? Where are you hiding?

Come out. where the melodious tones of the harlot as she slowly spinned in circles, observing each single direction.

Noth. No.
South. No.
East. No.
Wes-- Yes. Oh yes. Cerulean gaze locked on the phantom brute as he approched. An eye roll was offered as she warmly approved of his inspection. She knew better; their arguments were often heatin gu and taking forever to die therefore the harlot consented to it rather than question his affection. And to be honest, after all this time spent alone and in the company of the spirits, she reeled in his touch. His warmth. The scent of her own brother wrapping around her; she will smell like him for hours now.

The ssspirits are ssilent not dead. Do not bite the hand that fed. the harlot nosed her brother ear, sharing and mixing their scent together. Her own scent of blood and decay mixed with his strong pine and male one.

We must be patient, blood. I need to find a place meditate and accesss the gates.

Speech