![]() ![]() Pic 2 is the third undersecretary to the royal historian (or some similar underling position within the royal court) and discovered something he shouldn’t have. I can see him climbing the trail towards my cave again. I was so startled I lit half my clothes on fire and scared him away. ![]() The other day this man came to my cave claiming he needed a phoenix to help him with his quest. I’ve pretty much been a hermit since my clan kicked me out ten years ago. I lose my feathers (I could give you my father’s lecture on that word for word, I’ve heard it so many times). Unfortunately, I’m a pretty terrible phoenix. ![]() Around him, delicate flowers blossom with long, curled petals, as delicate and strong as this man himself. Despite the floating pages and the bruised blues and greens in the dangerous sky before him, the man with raven hair and a dark purple streak remains calm, absorbed. Pages seem to leave the book and fly away, as if magically lifted by the wind. His tight black pants and elegant dress shirt convey a sense of timeless style. Photo 2: A tranquil, lavender-shirted man holds a book in his right hand and a lantern in his left. His raw sensuality simmers, as if the air around him is charged with electricity and yet refuses to ignite into passion. His short red hair either burns with orange-dancing flames or perhaps catches the raw yellow sunlight, giving him a fire-roasted appearance. ![]() Around him, singed and burned feathers waft to the ground. Photo 1: A shirtless, slender man with hard-taut muscles gazes thoughtfully ahead. ![]()
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