Having to “conquer foes within the depths of hell” over and over again makes me feel unwortby of someone like you.
I am as if in The Witcher’s position, eyes magic-crazed and determination bent on overcoming any obstacle oozing from my pores while blood and slime covers my bearings – how thus could you account my beauty?
What would beguile you into thinking that we are matched in our wits and comprehension’s understanding?
Candid Corvid Productions 