He watched from the branches above. He contained a morbid ghost much like her own, and much like her stubborn refusal to relinquish the phantom, he held on for dear life. There was nothing which could remove him from the darkness-no colour of brighter things. The Raven was a beacon, watching over the tossing seas. He was a lovely dark thing, a forever imprint, even beyound this world into the next.
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