Journal
Journal of Siruvir Misthaline
The sad past of which the shadows of despair and melancholy predominates...Let those days of light and faith pass, and now, I stand ready, armed to face what would become of me when the distant future should bear its daggers into me...
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Speak naught of my presence, breathe naught of my coming, see naught of my leaving, and you will think I was of the shrill melody of the passing wind...[/color:1a48898e50]
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