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Post by Darcy on Jan 6, 2011 16:00:45 GMT -5
((Random tital is random))
Ace of spare walked around, numbly, of her more serpentine mosters curled loosly around her arm. She sighed, bored and lonely as usuall.
((Short epic fail))
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Post by Poison Ivy on Jan 6, 2011 16:09:47 GMT -5
Trent played guitar at the edge of the woods, singing along. His voice was that of a thousand angels. It was hard to believe he was the son of the ferryman of the underworld.
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Post by Darcy on Jan 6, 2011 16:11:16 GMT -5
Ace walked around, she was very very bored.
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Post by Poison Ivy on Jan 6, 2011 16:12:57 GMT -5
Trent played Not Good Enough for Truth in Cliché.
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Post by Darcy on Jan 6, 2011 16:14:34 GMT -5
Ace continued to walk around.She herd something, well actually her mostor herd something first but after a second or too she herd it aswell.
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Post by Poison Ivy on Jan 6, 2011 16:16:53 GMT -5
Trent sang the lyrics.
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Post by Darcy on Jan 6, 2011 16:17:17 GMT -5
Ace continued to listen.
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Post by Poison Ivy on Jan 6, 2011 16:19:57 GMT -5
Trent was a great singer and a great guitar player.
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Post by Darcy on Jan 6, 2011 16:21:00 GMT -5
Ace was intrigued.
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Post by Poison Ivy on Jan 6, 2011 16:21:57 GMT -5
Trent watched his left hand, which was the one making the chords.
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Post by Darcy on Jan 6, 2011 16:22:38 GMT -5
Ace walked towards the sound.
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Post by Poison Ivy on Jan 6, 2011 16:23:52 GMT -5
Trent was listening to his iPod while he played.
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Post by Darcy on Jan 6, 2011 16:26:18 GMT -5
Ace walked over to him.
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Post by Poison Ivy on Jan 6, 2011 16:26:48 GMT -5
Trent played each song he heard.
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Post by Darcy on Jan 6, 2011 16:28:38 GMT -5
Ace watched him.
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