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[white_flowers]

She looks almost like a ghost, moving through the snow at the edge of the lake, far from prying eyes. White on white, and each step crackles with ice as she passes.

The environment does not bother her, nor does the chill of frost and ice. It is no colder than the anger she bears with her, no more deadly than her rage.

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[maydaybrat.livejournal.com]

He smiles back and, together, they walk into the bar.