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Paint the man. Cut the lines.
Alexander, you must let me be. I have to concentrate.
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Created on 2011-12-23 05:25:57 (#1211876), last updated 2012-02-27 (728 weeks ago)
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| Name: | Daniel of Mayfair |
|---|
How has this escaped me? They're all dead.
Limbs scattered, heads split down the middle, their skin flayed as if boiled. I feel like I’m falling into myself. What’s happening? Sir William Smith, professor Taylor, and now doctor Tate. Is it following me? How can it not be? It’s the damned thing I brought from Africa. Something is after me.
I have no choice but to trust the baron. He better know what he claims. If he is wrong, I suspect he’ll regret it as well.
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cazrolime | musebox: ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
weathertop
Limbs scattered, heads split down the middle, their skin flayed as if boiled. I feel like I’m falling into myself. What’s happening? Sir William Smith, professor Taylor, and now doctor Tate. Is it following me? How can it not be? It’s the damned thing I brought from Africa. Something is after me.
I have no choice but to trust the baron. He better know what he claims. If he is wrong, I suspect he’ll regret it as well.
cazrolime | musebox: weathertop People [View Entries]
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