Metaphors. This Was The Cost Of Making

My Muse Is An Ungrateful Harlot Who’s Abandoned Me To Actually Come Up With My Own Plots.

Then, His Struggles Stopped. His Eyes Stared At Me, Stunned, And His Lips Parted, Almost Into A Smile, Albeit A Grisly And Pained One. "that’s What I Was Supposed To Say..." He Gasped Out. Those Were His Last Words.

...and Motioned Me Toward A Spot Next To A Middle-aged Moroi In A Very Formal And Very Designer Black Suit. The Suit Screamed, I'm Sorry The Queen Is Dead, And I'm Going To Look Fashionable While Showing My Grief

For A Moment His Eyes Locked Onto Me With An Intensity That Left Me Breathless.

And Besides . . . I Don’t Want To Leave You. Er, You Guys.” He Smiled, And It Lit Up His Whole Face. “well, ‘we’ Are Certainly Happy To Hear That. Oh, And I’m Also Happy To Watch Our Darling Little Love Child Dragon While You’re In St. Louis.” I Grinned Back.