"Aria ma n kule"

       He dropped the meal. Even the callous corpse. He was done eating. Hell knew he wasn't satisfied, but he wouldn't keep to such business at what his salient sight had lent him. He wasn't sure whether or not he was rich enough to repay or would be pawned by bruised bankruptcy. He wouldn't be pored by illicit or dimwitted thoughts. There were things he wouldn't savor at the moment. A part of him was grateful to the trunk which had made him stumble. If he hadn't, he probably might had stirred the creature before him and of course, a battle line might had been drawn. He wasn't actually afraid of battle, but he wasn't in for it. He didn't believe in having to fight everything. He believed in dialogue. But if dialogue is crippled, then wanky war would treat. He knew what that meant and the magnanimity of its being. His fate would whisper to him what was expected of him, he would simp

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