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The Dark Knight

The Dark Knight

By Mitzi Danielson-Kaslik

Gentle. Young. Unknowing. Her white skin shone like ice under the lunar luminance with bright cold blue eyes glistening under her long dark lashes. Her pale cheeks swept to her high set cheekbones and jaw bone light cut glass. Tatty ebony curls hung to her thin waist outlining her beauty - a frame to a portrait. It seemed to ripple as waves in the soft evening wind. A chest plate: A rather dark shade of silver gleamed as moon beams hit its unstained surface and refracted. The strong metal had many sheer edges and many faces and angles to halt the possible shock posed by the strike of a weapon. However, all her armor was unmarked though it'd surely seen battle and blood over the centuries as her boots were muddied by age and earth. Used. Torn. Broken. The ruined cotton swept back from her narrow shoulders to the dying tufts of earth that lay around her phantasmal form. The folds, despite the material's obvious age, were quite clean with deep black voids hiding between them. No sound of breath emanated.

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About The Author
Mitzi Danielson-Kaslik
About This Story
5 May, 2019
Read Time
<1 min
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