“Saint Tsahai.” Malachi muttered the name of the statue, as if you’d asked, with a faint smile twitching the corners of his lips.
He had that priest act on, but you could smell the alcohol on his breath, the faint smell of nicotine clinging to him. There was a slight crease in his expressions that foretold his surprise at your sudden appearance, the slight tightening of his grip on your shoulder.
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5emocuteanddying
04/06/2025
⛑tonytonychopper🦌💊
04/06/2025
☥ zyιιĸyυι ☥
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04/06/2025
☥ zyιιĸyυι ☥
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04/06/2025