LionheartWhite knight, lion heart, so tall and handsome
In your shining armour and your high horse.
Ice blue eyes set to the brave world to come
From your heart and lips, mere justice pours
What you thought to be a gift from above
An angel, beautiful to hear, to view
You confessed to her, and you spoke of love
But the princess wasn't yours to rescue.
When a lion heart has a lion soul,
He tried to break her but she remains whole.
He tried to keep her, he tried to impress
but she was not the damsel in distress.
He was the prince but she was the dragon
He asked for a dream and got a woman
In the all it all fell off the wagon
Imperfections lie in hearts of human
He wanted more than she could have given
It was bound to end with tears and laughter
I guess we can say I have forgiven
This wasn't your happily ever after.
I'm not mad, in fact I hardly blame you
I'm glad it's gone but I'm glad it happened
Abarak 18In the shades of a small alley on the east side of Brethage lurked a pale, thin man dressed in black. Although even in the dark there would have been more practical things to wear - a worker's cloth would have done fine - he preferred the thought of disappearing into shadows more than the idea of disappearing into crowds. He was impractical by principle and had nobody to nag to him about it. The Dregs knew him as Twitchy Gerver.
He peaked out behind the corner to glance at the man he was stalking. He did not know what the man had done to have him sent after himself, that didn't matter. He was better off not knowing, anyway. As the man approached, he grabbed him. Pushing the cloth to his face, the man quickly gave up struggling. The poison he had bought merely stunned instead of killing. Expensive but useful, he needed the man alive.
The man luckily was not too heavy to carry, and nobody even lifted their gaze. Only a man carrying his drunk friend. Or a thief carrying an unconscious bod
Abarak 17It is said, that even if wrathful gods grew sick of our world, and sent a plague to kill all that is human, elf, orc or spirit, there would still be joy and misery in Brethage. Sometimes Vernas felt it was so. When he was at his most joyous, the ugly city broke down his spirits. And at his misery, it comforted him. And in his boredom, it served as distraction. All of the Dregs knew what a nobleman in his fine jacket and shined boots was doing in their areas. And that he had a dagger and an excuse, whether someone had disagreements with his presence.
He was headed to the port, to the one-eared bitch. He passed through the muddy streets, where filthy, thin, poor and deformed begged and stole from each other. Ragged waifs who never seemed to be doing anything. Anything they shouldn't get arrested for, at least.
Beun huffed in frustration and looked at the little scars on his knuckles. "Because it's against my honour, that's why." Eila snickered. "Since when have you had honour?" There w
Abarak 16Harom knelt down and assisted the prosthesis back on his master's leg. He knew the help was unnecessary at best and uncalled for at worse, but it was an act of servitude. His request of absolution. The bath room air was still thick with steam which stuck to their clothes and turned his hair wavy. "Your shoulder was dislocated", he muttered more to himself than his silent master. No, he spoke to him. He just wished that he wouldn't hear. He did, but didn't answer. Harom saw neither shame, regret nor frustration in the young man's eyes. Four years he was yet to see a single tear, hear a single chuckle of laughter.
"My lord, Aiden, I know it is not my place to interfere with your life nor ask questions, but I pray for your kindness and sensibility to be reminded that I am also to be your guardian. It would very much ease my given duty of keeping you safe if you contributed to the task." The young man was covered in bruises and fist marks, by their appearance done with bare fists and bare