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Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips
Thrust or parry.
that I require someone with expertise similar to yours,
slaughtered his siblings.
I heard a friend of Mother say
Let me show you.
who hurt me
Take it as a sign of something like love.
The peasants believed that he fed upon it.
I see.
You two, flank the doorway.
And I belong in hell.
I am preternaturally healthy,
This good man here...
I have developed a serum, a medicine of sorts.
Write often...
This animal feeds off blood because it must.
But I have not an ounce of sympathy for any creature who means you harm.
I want my scars to show.
In the ways of mayhem and slaughter, that is.
Sir Malcolm and Mr. Chandler.
and think of me only when you dance.
when you kill your husband with a cleaver
Yes, sir.
Every cruel bastard
And this.
You will not pass me by, will you, Master,
It is who they are.
Realizing how much I relied on them,
Every filthy alley.
Father?
Life and death without the death.
Unblemished by sadness.
For what, loving you?
If there is such a thing.
Tell me when.
I hoped it would be you.
And I will send my father to hell,