Death:
They all succumb to my prowess. The poor, the weak; the rich, the powerful. Everybody bows before me. I offer you one last chance.
Crow:
I don't want my work to be lost forever. My work is eternal. I want that eternity. I want to be sure my words will survive me, that they will be never lost in time.
Death:
That, my friend, NEVERMORE!
Riportata da il
05/03/2025 alle ore 08:46
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