Elan and Ella sat together on a bench in a town.
Not a care in the world.
Well, that was how it was supposed to be.
Things wouldn't stay that way for long.
They're enjoyable, but the writing in a lot of cases is laughable. They (the writers), like George Lucas, need to learn the meaning of the word "subtlety."
Percy breathing underwater. oH i WoNdEr WhO yOuR gOdLy PaReNt Is?
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Ailin let his breath go, he hadn't even realized he had been holding it. He put on a serious face, turning to the remaining obligators. "Well?!" He shouted, commanding, "Get to the streets! We will find this Survivor at ALL COSTS. Spread the word. Anyone found speaking of the survivor will be EXECUTED, along with everyone. They. Love."
Prelan Ailin nodded. He turned, giving the order to an obligator, who would spread the word among the rest of the canton. He turned back, quickly, to keep his eyes on the inquisitor. Those things creeped. Him. Out. "We will find them as quickly as possible." He said, straightening his back. "I have some of my best men on it."