Excerpted from Mors Perii
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EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
British (General)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
and kill descended from the days he had stood upon his gold edged robes, the mirror of the tattooed priests own, though far more embellished with Rudnick script as befit his senior station, the tattooed priest felt the insipid cold of fear and guilt began to creep up its spine. He had watched and kills eyes become a stormy as his imperative words. I I'm lost, striker and Kill admonished. You are schuss striker. He sought to cow his younger colleague, now with rank and formality, the loss. Reiger, the life singer, had ever bean the senior to the shots. Rika, the stone singer in the city's ruling council, the tattooed priest, took a step back from the dais even as ankle commanded him. Remember your place beneath you, the tattooed priest thought despite himself. Watching his own thoughts through the lens of memory, made the unveil waste thought even more spiteful and immature. He became aware now that he was watching his younger self even here, in this recollection, rendered hazy by time and nostalgic longing, ankles Face was a severe and as heedless of opposition as ever. It had bean in life. Do not meddle with those passed into memory. Allow them their peace. I cannot said the tattooed priest, For they were not allowed to die in peace. They should not be dead at all.