A home MAY be a sort of cage, but still—it’s a home. He even thought he could detect the voice of Jonathan, urging and directing them. The rest of his attire was nondescript. ‘Why don’t you?’ Melusine frowned at him, grasping the dagger more firmly. "I see. Love stories!… A sob rushed into her throat, and to smother it she buried her face in a pillow.
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