The Grimoire

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The Grimoire

Post by LostBoy on Sat Jan 02, 2016 3:57 am

Ewan was curled in the loft of the Hopper’s stable, fixated on a torn parchment. Parting with his name included everything that came with it, fortune included. Mucking stalls for room and board wasn’t so bad. He’d been through worse, having endured the messier sides of hunting and equestrian pursuits on his family’s estate, hopeless as he was at either. It was a fun part to play, almost, being the scrawny stableboy who lived in a loft… but holding secrets to bring all those barking, swarthy woodsman whimpering to their knees if he so chose.


It all depended on the grimoire he paid so dearly for… which hadn’t yet been written.

My wisdom is writ in the blood of maidens once given, twice taken
My wisdom is writ by a man who is a boy
My wisdom is writ upon the bark of a hanged man’s tree
My wisdom is writ beneath midwinter’s setting sun

LostBoy

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