For a fatherless son.

The small skulls, the smashed blue hills, the godawful hush.

Till then your smiles are found money.

Laxago. The girl would speak the name aloud to herself, it's pronunciation foreign and strange on her lips. She sounds rather alike to my mother. Circe would state suddenly, a certain sharpness attached to the statement. Pale cerulean eyes would peer at the man again; watching curiously; watching carefully as a her delicate crown would come to rest against his shoulder, the point of her jowls turned slowly upward to comb through the mane like fur Erebos had inherited from their father. I won't leave you like they do. If you choose to keep me as your sister. hot, white breath would spiral from her nose, veiling the hopeful expression that occupied her eager face. She felt childish staking such a claim but she had not realized she was so desperate for kinship.