I love the subtle beginning to the fic, so that you don't realize it's Mirrorverse until the start of the third paragraph, where everything goes a bit askew.
At pleasure here we lie near Orleans; Otherwhiles the famish'd English, like pale ghosts, Faintly besiege us one hour in a month.
If I can't spare the time—well, like as not we go anyhow. And where else can you ride all day with your saddle and neck full of snow brushed from the trees and still not freeze half to death?
Characters by the bedroomsful make the scene and everyone in it.
アカウントを持っていませんか？ 新規登録
アカウントを持っていますか？ ログイン
DiQt（ディクト）
無料
★★★★★★★★★★
