ใ€ ๐“ต๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ž๐ง๐ž , ๐“ฎ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ž๐ง๐ช๐ฎ๐ž๐ž๐ง .

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ใ€ ๐“ต๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ž๐ง๐ž , ๐“ฎ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ž๐ง๐ช๐ฎ๐ž๐ž๐ง . banner
ใ€ ๐“ต๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ž๐ง๐ž , ๐“ฎ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ž๐ง๐ช๐ฎ๐ž๐ž๐ง .

ใ€ ๐“ต๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ž๐ง๐ž , ๐“ฎ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ž๐ง๐ช๐ฎ๐ž๐ž๐ง .

@PERFERVIDSYLPH

โ €ใ€€โ €ใ€€โ €ใ€€ ๐™šใ€€ ๐‘ฐ๐šƒ ใ€€ ๐‘พ ๐™ฐ๐š‚ใ€€ ๐™ฐใ€€ โžดใ€€ ๐‘ณ๐™พ๐š…๐™ดใ€€ ๐‘ป๐™ท๐™ฐ๐šƒใ€€๐‘ฉอŸ๐š„อŸ๐šอŸ๐™ฝอŸ๐™ดอŸ๐™ณใ€€.โ €

๐‹๐Ž๐“๐‘ . Katฤฑlฤฑm Ocak 2021
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ใ€ ๐“ต๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ž๐ง๐ž , ๐“ฎ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ž๐ง๐ช๐ฎ๐ž๐ž๐ง .
the pads of her fingers rest gently upon the cool arrowhead, no muscle in her body tensing beyond the necessity of lifting her arm to level with the bow. โ€œ now, now, legolasโ€ฆ โ€
โ€”โ€” โ™— THE ARCHER.@TRVXLER

pointing an arrow at ( reader ), ready to fire.

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ใ€ ๐“ต๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ž๐ง๐ž , ๐“ฎ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ž๐ง๐ช๐ฎ๐ž๐ž๐ง .
โ€” than intention. circles that never quite closed. lines that led nowhere. โ€œ I have grown soโ€ฆ distant from all of this, โ€ she admitted, her voice quieter now, touched with something almost wistful. โ€œ I would not even know what shape your days take anymore. โ€
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ใ€ ๐“ต๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ž๐ง๐ž , ๐“ฎ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ž๐ง๐ช๐ฎ๐ž๐ž๐ง .
โ€” something that lingered just beyond understanding. it was uniquely his, and it drew her in all the same. โ€œ how has the morrow treated you, my sweet? โ€ she asked softly. her thumb began its absent tracing against his arm, slow, thoughtless patterns that spoke more of comfort โ€”
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ใ€ ๐“ต๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ž๐ง๐ž , ๐“ฎ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ž๐ง๐ช๐ฎ๐ž๐ž๐ง .
โ€” gaze. when he offered his arm, she did not hesitate. luthiene slipped her own through it with an ease born of long familiarity, her fingers curling gently around his forearm as though they had always belonged there. she leaned into him without thought, her weight settling โ€”
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ใ€ ๐“ต๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ž๐ง๐ž , ๐“ฎ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ž๐ง๐ช๐ฎ๐ž๐ž๐ง .
โ€” rediscovering something sacredโ€”something she had once known intimately, and yet never quite managed to hold onto. there was always something missing in recollection. some glimmer, some breath of life that could not be preserved. but hereโ€”nowโ€”he was whole again beneath her โ€”
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ใ€ ๐“ต๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ž๐ง๐ž , ๐“ฎ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ž๐ง๐ช๐ฎ๐ž๐ž๐ง .
โ€” seen him a thousand times over, knew every contour by heart, and yetโ€ฆ it never felt like enough. memory betrayed her, always. it dulled him, simplified him, stripped away the fleeting details that made him ๐’ฝ๐’พ๐“‚. and so each time she looked again, it was as though she were โ€”
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ใ€ ๐“ต๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ž๐ง๐ž , ๐“ฎ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ž๐ง๐ช๐ฎ๐ž๐ž๐ง .
โ€” strands of his hair, catching them gently before winding one around her finger. the motion was absentmindedโ€”habit. โ€œ tell me, my king, โ€ she murmured at last. her voice was soft, lips pressed into a thin, contemplative line as her head tilted slightly, studying him from โ€”
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ใ€ ๐“ต๐ฎ๐ญ๐ก๐ข๐ž๐ง๐ž , ๐“ฎ๐ฅ๐ฏ๐ž๐ง๐ช๐ฎ๐ž๐ž๐ง .
the pads of luthieneโ€™s fingers drifted along the carved branches of the throne, tracing their winding paths as though committing each curve to memory. she circled him slowly, unhurried, her presence neither stalking nor sharp-edged. there was nothing predatory in the way she โ€”
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