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Chapter 1: Introduction As I walked into the tower and up the steps, I could hear voices arguing. I continued on to see it was two turians. I would've walked right past them were it not for something one of them had said, "Saren's hiding something! Give me more time! Stall them!" Raising my eyebrow, I waited until the second turian dismissed himself. The first -Garrus, I think he had been called- turned toward me. "Commander Shepard, Garrus Vakarian. I was the officer in charge of the C-Sec investigation against Saren." I heard a bit of spite as he said 'was.' I guess I would've been spiteful too, had I been shot down like he was.
Giving him a questioning look, I asked, "Who were you just talking to?"
He turned his head and seemed to glare in the direction the turian had gone off to. "That was Executor Pallin. Head of Citadel Security, my boss. He'll be presenting my findings on Saren to the Council."
Puzzled as to why a turian would want to take down on
It Started With A Dance Ch. 1AN: I haven't seen the show in a while, so this is going off of what I remember. Which is basically they had an ep that could've been them on a date, if you looked at it the right way and her identity wasn't revealed to anyone except her dad and brother who didn’t believe her.
Becky Botsford, A.K.A Wordgirl, was at school talking with her friend Violet. "So Becky, what do you think about Wordgirl coming to the school dance tomorrow?" Violet inquired.
Tobey, who had been listening in on their conversation, inputs, "Ah yes, Wordgirl. She is quite intriguing. I do so hope she goes."
Becky scoffs, "What, are you going to ask her out on a date?" She thinks to herself, I already know he will, and I'll say no. To her surprise, the boy geniuses laughs.
"Oh no no, it will be much more simple than that. Much more simple, so that she'll HAVE to go on a date with me! And perhaps I'll finally figure out her secret identity."
Suddenly, before Becky coul
EasterRemember what you love,
you with sand in your teeth
and the feral burn of hunger
in your eyes.
God sends his regrets.
He made you grasping and slow,
in a late hour
when the wine washed low.
Remember what you love.
Fall to your knees in the toss
and the swell, quell
the appetite of the cold black sea.
Beg blessings for your home
and the salt-sick trees.
Reach what lies near:
the fat-faced child, the sweet-soft lamb;
tether the tantrum, trickle the blood.
Offer psalms to what is holy,
whisper the name of what you love
as it bobs in the bleak mad sea.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More