In all endeavours, a paradise lost, spread out between a myriad of thoughts -- whether or not this might have been the demon he'd known, crawled out of perdition, while Ciel hung on by a single silver thread. The simple question comes, though it repeats in the mind, like a flurry of crows screaming in the autumn light. wΜ·hΜ·yΜ·? "Yα΄α΄ Κα΄α΄α΄ α΄‘α΄ΚΚ." the young demon says instead. He is no sniveling coward -- he'd long since shed humanity, emerging as a monster in the dark.
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