- Messages
- 133
Leighton walked around the outskirts of the temple, carrying Autumn in his arms. Autumn remained quiet all the way here, as if she braced herself for the moment that awaited her. The tall handsome man walked through the large doors, and the monks stopped what they were doing, a few getting up and walking over to him. Koji, was one of them that looked after the magical animals of the glade, he spoke to Leighton quietly, and took Autumn, as Leighton nodded his head. Autumn fretted slightly but then looked at the kind man's face and realised that she recognised him, and liked him. The two entered through a doorway on the far end of the room and were out of sight. The place seemed dead and empty, and everything seemed to sit still. One of the others that were by Leighton's side lead him to the stairs of the tower. He bowed his head and set off in another direction, leaving Leighton anticipating what he should prtect his conscience from seeing next. The tower steps curled around a fat pillar, and Leighton circled it until he came to a lovely room, decorated with paintings, and sculptures of all kinds radiating with elegance and intricalities possesing priceless beauty of all containing. A large, sturdy, and comfrotable looking bed sat in the middle, and another thing radiated from the sheets and quilt.
Japanese characters, also known as 'Kanji' pulsated in blue lights over the length of two contrasted pale arms. Curley red locks with hints of blonde in them surrounded the face of a lifeless doll of porcelain, and it made Leighton's stomach turn. Her lips were no longer the shade of pale pink he knew was a characteristic of his cousin that he liked about her appearance, but now a cracked powder from lack of moisture. Is she dead? Leighton asked himself mentally as tears creeped to the crevaces of his lids. His breath caught in his throat, and his face scrunched up in grievance.
Japanese characters, also known as 'Kanji' pulsated in blue lights over the length of two contrasted pale arms. Curley red locks with hints of blonde in them surrounded the face of a lifeless doll of porcelain, and it made Leighton's stomach turn. Her lips were no longer the shade of pale pink he knew was a characteristic of his cousin that he liked about her appearance, but now a cracked powder from lack of moisture. Is she dead? Leighton asked himself mentally as tears creeped to the crevaces of his lids. His breath caught in his throat, and his face scrunched up in grievance.