These frail mane still smells of coffin nails. Hands : Struggling ..stretching. scratching… Orb : Wide and wrathful : Fluctuating the pupils left and right | Mad mad | Concentrating on those screams..screams into le noir lughole . THERE! I grasp your fluttering wings. Oh you flutterer ! fluttering on C. Fluttering hushed ..Fluttering hasten.. ..fluttering to strive for nooks and blood. Oh you flutterer! but erroneous target thee chooseth. Smash. Squeeze. Alas! now ease into mine ichor palms.