Black and white, once again, stand on the straight line connecting each other. Pen ~ fun ~ pavilion www.biquge.info

"Last time, it was her. If you are replaced, it will not change much. ”

Her sorrowful countenance flashed and cried out for the desire to seek the Poetic Horn Sword.

"I'm looking forward to it!"

The black king crouched, half of his body was at the height of the hilt of the sword, and he pulled down heavily, if the casting time was too long, it would be too beneficial to himself, and he maintained his morbid self-esteem at this moment.

It's just that the white wings have already swung in front of him, and the shear force staggered and tore apart half of his face and eyes.

She was still half-kneeling and pecking.

A prosthetic eye grows around one eye, flashing, providing an all-round view.

"Functionalism."

The sword was dragged up from the surface of the earth, drawn between the legs of the white cross, and was pinched.

Ah, a little shy...

But then, I experienced a sex addiction that could be both spoken and unexplained.

How to debauch yourself?

Along the thin arc of the blade, white flows through the crosshair and baseline in the center of the air, and you can feel the tiny numbness of the wound with your finger pads.

The sword was sharp, she laughed.

"Black Cross loves her?"

The little girl raised her head, and the sun and the moon were alternating.

"So, her creations are all decorations in front of her, an aesthetic. Only those who are of the [living grave] category are worthy of life. ”

The sun has the upper hand and the moon dives into the night.

"Forever?"

"Forever."

My brow furrowed, I regretted speaking like this, words are an element of power, not to mention that I am in this position.

[In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God.] 】

I can't break my oath.

It was the shame of my life, and the pride of my life.

"But, in another world, that's the case. In my world, it's not. ”

The dim light of heaven, the green immortal trees, the alternating moon and the sun, are things that cannot be created.

I carefully left the throne, and the angels raised their spears, raised their cannons, closed the canopy, and opened their eyes.

"Sir, you no longer have words, you are a man of no words."

"Got it."

The archangel kicked me off Eden with a foot that was covered in dirt and dust in the air.

They are two different substances, different nouns, different world descriptive parameters.

.

She rubbed her sword precisely against the black cross's neck, and the laughter spread ten miles away.

The moonlight was dim, and the blade of the sword was weak and reflective.

Behold, Sun One, there is still no thought of working, and something will go wrong with the dream world.

Black Cross felt her words instead of listening.

The kings are fighting, and the will is free, free as never before.

"You're so crazy that you have to give up on yourself. The dream world is you, I won't say a second time. ”

Suicide is the highest form of introspection and should not be feared.

"It's murder!"

The tip of his hair could not see himself shaking, and someone was blowing in the distance, puffing out his cheeks, wearing small round glasses, dressed in white, and he was a man.

Oh?

The hilt of the sword is on the left, my blood is flowing out, white cross, you really do it!

Kindness.

It doesn't matter if the throat is cut, but if the spine is broken, it's troublesome.

"The rebel son is really manic."

The crowd watched from a distance, and the field of vision was golden.

Who's that?

"Who am I?"

The man asked, with a fatherly smile.

Floating with the sword, the girl tilted her body, her arms raised above her head, stretching and killing in the night.

"It's horrible."

The sword entered the flesh, but it was poured into a part of itself by the muscle mass, twisted, bitten, the gears worked, the tendons expanded and contracted, and the majestic stirred, and my heart hardened.

"Afraid of ......."

He raised his hand, the sword tucked into the crook of his arm, bending, expressing his weakness.

Running her thumb into her chest, she grabbed the man's waist with her backhand in a panic, and felt a row of iron and steel through the gap.

The man was unusually kind, and felt that evolution should not have such an obscene form and appearance, so he broke the girl, shouted through the blood-red dress, squinted, and examined.

I struggled again, but I lost my mind to the point where I couldn't forgive.

She had already "executed" me several times, and she was still faithful to her, and motherhood turned out to be dirty.

Halfway through the run, I sat down on my knees and admired.

Until she was neatly arranged, in the afterglow of the horizon, under the night sky.

My tears ran out of my mouth. The lacrimal duct is unimportant to me, it does not express the most standard definition of grief, history.

"I'm a violent father."

As if not noticing me, the man turned his head, twisted his body, stepped over the parts, picked up my head hanging from his spine, shook it, I lost one side of my eyeball, rolled a meter away.

"Then, good mother, I declare now, in the name of the writer, that you will be my child, please?"