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DeviantArt - 18 years by CaroFrescoDolceFlata DeviantArt - 18 years :iconcarofrescodolceflata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata 7 3
Mature content
The Mantis (1/4)(ENG) :iconcarofrescodolceflata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata 4 0
Mature content
La Mantide (1/4)(ITA) :iconcarofrescodolceflata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata 5 6
Literature
A world for Mirko (ENG)
When that morning the courier had rung to his door to make a delivery, Mirko was quite surprised. No one had ever sent anything to him and he was sure he didn't order anything online. Yet, when he come down to the entrance to check, he found the courier to wait for him.
Without asking questions, he signed the forms and returned to his apartment with the mysterious parcel in his arms.
At least I'm sure they are not bills, he thought, while resting on the delivery on the kitchen table and ended up getting ready to go to work.
Once he returned home after his turn at the ice-cream parlour, Mirko had devoted all his attention to the mysterious pack.
It was a huge box, wrapped in abundant brown parcel paper and twine, with his name and address written in a marker on the upper side. The sender was not scored anywhere. Mirko lifted it doubtfully. Despite the mole, the parcel was very light and only a slight rustle when he was shaking it meant it was not empty.
Well, it's worth a look
:iconCaroFrescoDolceFlata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata
:iconcarofrescodolceflata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata 5 3
Literature
Un mondo per Mirko (ITA)
Quando quella mattina il corriere aveva suonato alla sua porta per effettuare una consegna, Mirko era rimasto piuttosto sorpreso. Nessuno gli aveva mai spedito niente ed era sicuro di non aver ordinato nulla online.
Eppure, quando era sceso all'ingresso a controllare, aveva trovato il corriere ad aspettare proprio lui.
Senza fare domande, aveva firmato i moduli ed era tornato al suo appartamento con il pacco misterioso fra le braccia.
Almeno sono sicuro che non sono bollette, aveva pensato, mentre poggiava la consegna sul tavolo della cucina e finiva di prepararsi per andare a lavoro.
Una volta tornato a casa dopo il suo turno in gelateria, Mirko aveva dedicato tutta la sua attenzione al pacco misterioso.
Era un enorme scatolone, avvolto in abbondante carta da pacchi marrone e spago, con il suo nome e indirizzo scritti a pennarello sul lato superiore. Il mittente non era segnato da nessuna parte. Mirko lo sollevò dubbioso. Nonostante la mole, il pacco era leggerissimo e sol
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:iconcarofrescodolceflata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata 7 7
Literature
The Beacon (ENG)
“Hurry, Saif! Don't stay back!” Rigel was already halfway on the staircase while her son trudged much further back.
“I'm sorry” replied Saif. “It's just that...” The boy interrupted and sighed forlornly. “It is already the fifth time we activate the Beacon. Can it never be the right one?”
The woman watched for a long time as the son reached her. She knew how he felt and unfortunately she couldn't do anything. Once again their Clan was forced to flee, and the reason for their escape was the same for centuries: the lust for power of their protected.
“Sooner or later we will find the perfect place,” said Rigel to reassure her son and even herself. “We just have to make another jump or two.”
Saif made a little convinced grimace and made to answer her, but at that moment the ground trembled and a roar filled the air. The two had to cling to the railings that wrapped the staircase to maintain the balance. Much lower, the
:iconCaroFrescoDolceFlata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata
:iconcarofrescodolceflata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata 5 0
Mature content
Kian's banquet (ENG)(3/3) :iconcarofrescodolceflata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata 3 0
Mature content
Kian's banquet (ENG)(2/3) :iconcarofrescodolceflata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata 3 0
Mature content
Kian's banquet (ENG)(1/3) :iconcarofrescodolceflata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata 4 0
Coloring challenge - I dare you! by CaroFrescoDolceFlata Coloring challenge - I dare you! :iconcarofrescodolceflata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata 7 3 You'll not kill me so easely by CaroFrescoDolceFlata You'll not kill me so easely :iconcarofrescodolceflata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata 17 13
Literature
The battle of Morva (ENG)(2/2)
Comfort
Dagran blinked confused. He pulled himself up slowly, dropping the cloak that covered him. He was no longer in the swamps, but under a rocky ledge. It was dead of night and above the foliage of the trees the sky was lit by a myriad of stars. A field fire burned a little farther. One of the branches that fed it had broken, causing the snap he had heard just before waking up. He gave a quick look at the surroundings and realized that his companions were all there. Yurick was lying next to the rock wall and gave his back to the fire. Syrenne and Mirania were closer, with the warrior sleeping hugged to the Mage. They all seemed so serene...
Zael and Lowell were well awake, and at that moment they were leaning on Dagran to observe him with worried faces. From the hand resting on his shoulder, he realized that it was Zael who wake him up.
“What is it?” he asked half asleep.
“I ended my turn of guard and I saw that you were agitated” said Zael, “Is everyt
:iconCaroFrescoDolceFlata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata
:iconcarofrescodolceflata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata 4 0
Mature content
The battle of Morva (ENG)(1/2) :iconcarofrescodolceflata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata 3 0
Literature
La battaglia di Morva (ITA)(2/2)
Conforto
Dagran sbatté le palpebre confuso. Si tirò su lentamente, facendo cadere il mantello che lo copriva. Non era più nelle paludi, ma sotto una sporgenza rocciosa. Era notte fonda, il cielo sopra le fronde degli alberi illuminato da una miriade di stelle. Un fuoco da campo ardeva poco più in là. Uno dei rami che lo alimentavano si era spezzato, causando lo schiocco che aveva sentito poco prima di svegliarsi. Diede una rapida occhiata ai dintorni e si rese conto che i suoi compagni erano tutti lì. Yurick era sdraiato accanto alla parete di roccia e dava le spalle al fuoco. Syrenne e Mirania erano più vicine, con la guerriera che dormiva abbracciata alla Maga. Sembravano tutti così sereni...
Zael e Lowell invece erano ben svegli, e in quel momento erano chini su di lui a osservarlo con aria preoccupata. Dalla mano poggiata sulla spalla, Dagran capì che era stato Zael a svegliarlo.
«Cosa c'è?» chiese con voce impastata.
:iconCaroFrescoDolceFlata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata
:iconcarofrescodolceflata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata 6 5
Mature content
La battaglia di Morva (ITA)(1/2) :iconcarofrescodolceflata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata 4 5
Roghard and Brenna by CaroFrescoDolceFlata Roghard and Brenna :iconcarofrescodolceflata:CaroFrescoDolceFlata 6 10

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First things first: you did a great job! The whole scene is perfectly assembled and it has the power to tell a story. The costume looks...

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CaroFrescoDolceFlata
Ste
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Italy
Hi everyone!
Let me introduce my self: I'm CaroFrescoDolceFlata.
Yes, that's a long and difficult nick, but when I arrived here on DA it looked nice and now I can't change it...
To make things easy, you may call me Ste or Salem :D
I'm trying to become a Writer, but it's a long way...
As you can see, I write fan-fictions and original stories, but I write some game reviews too.
When I'm not writing, I make some drawing, with embarrassing results. They are just concepts waiting for someone that wants to cooperate with me ;)
I'm very shy, but I respond to every comments, even if I'll be late very often because of my scarce knowledge of English.

If you are interested, I'm open to Art Trades and Point Commissions, but for the last one I still need some time to calculate a price suitable for my not very professional abilities.

www.fanfiction.net/u/8773326/T…
Interests

Activity


DeviantArt - 18 years
Happy Birthday Deviant Art  ClapCake For Artists with candle 50x50 icon 
Actually I was planning to do something different, but then I put the colours in the wrong place, and I liked the result, so...

...and by the way, yes, I'm still alive.

Ah, for some strange reasons, if you want to see this, you must zoom the picture. Or maybe it's just my computer?
Loading...
All the updates I planned for the next months will be postponed because my computer died for real this time and I can't buy a new one.
Seriously, I'm really irritated from the repetitiveness of my misfortune...

Hey guys! It's been a while since my last journal. I apologise for the lack of updates and new stuff, but unfortunately between depression and other things I slowed down a lot the production of anything, drawings in particular (in fact I have not yet started the gifts that I had planned to do last Christmas! I'm really sorry). Sad stuff aside, this was a period of deep reflection, following which I decided to change the way I act.

To begin with, since I want the writing to become my job, the time has come to treat my original texts accordingly, so from now on I will post on the Internet only and exclusively the fanfictions and keep the new stories for competitions. The stories that I have already posted will remain online, while Storie dei Tre Deserti and Alter Ventus will no longer have new chapters... but since I never updated them, I don't think that someone would notice the difference. Of course, it's possible that I post new designs inspired to them in the future, since I have no intention of abandoning those stories, but if you want to know how them continue, then you have to hope that someone will publish me (and especially that I finish writing them). Separate speech must be done for the tales about Kian: because those are particular, I decided that those will be the only original stories that I'll continue to post here... IF I write more of them, it's obvious.

 I have a few things to say about my
 fanfictions too. If you followed me for a while, you should know that I have a kind of obsession with "The Last Story", caused by the fate of my favourite character within the game. Unfortunately however, as it's a nice game, it's practically unknown to the most, and since Mr. Sakaguchi doesn't make sequels in general (Final Fantasy from II to VII don't count as sequels), there is no hope for a second episode. At most we can hope for an HD version for Switch, but it is very unlikely. And this brings me to the following announcement: after seven years, I finally decided to take matters into my own hands and start writing a sequel by myself! If all goes well, I'll start posting it towards the end of April and it will be preceded by a mini-series of 8 one-shots in which I'll present as many OC that will join the original cast. I can't guarantee frequent updates, since I have to work on other projects too, but I'll try to do my best.


Another thing I want to announce is that maybe the fanfiction upon "The Last Story" will no longer be the only ones I post from now on. It's something I've been thinking about for years. For the new series of fanfiction I chose as a base a manga/anime of which I appreciated the idea of background but I couldn't bear the excess of sweetness: Card Captor Sakura.
So, here I should start a long talk about how long it took to the Italian television networks to understand the various distinctions of target of manga and anime, but this journal is already long enough so I will go straight to the point.
I had already tried to write a fanfiction upon CCS about 5 years ago, with changes more of my taste. The result was pleasant, but not convincing enough, so I trashed it. Now they started broadcasting Clear Card, the sequel to CCS, so I decided to make a second attempt. I will try to write a chapter, and if things go well enough, I will start the "Card Master Sakura" Project. I warn you: there will be big changes in the story, and I'm not just referring to the title!
True, I could have gone on the safe side and write fanfictions upon "The Legend Of Zelda" (also to attract many more readers), but unfortunately I remember all too well my first, horrible attempt and I am not yet ready to try again. Maybe I can not write fanfiction upon Zelda because in my eyes the series is already perfect as it is, not to mention that I haven't played "Breath Of The Wild" yet! Who knows, maybe in the future I will make another attempt, but it's very unlikely.

And with that, I think I said everything I had to say.
Alla prossima!

  • Listening to: Amberian Dawn - Darkness of eternity
  • Reading: A series of unfortunate events - Lemony Snicket
  • Watching: Hawaii Five 0
  • Playing: Zelda: Ocarina Of Time 3D (new 2DS! Yes!)
  • Eating: my liver...
  • Drinking: a cup of tea, my dear

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A good night

He did it.
After many years of efforts, Dagran was finally close to his goal. The secret notes that he had found the day before, about that power called Outsider, had lit in him a hope that he did not feel for so long. And then the mission that Lord Cyan had suggested him...
On the island where that power is hidden, at the service of Count Arganan no less. And that bastard of Asthar will be there too: what a stroke of luck!
To work for such an influential person would allow him not only to improve his social status, but also to approach the murderer of his family with ease. Such a thing deserved to be properly celebrated, and for this reason he had decided to use a part of his nest egg to spend the evening in pleasant female company. Now it was almost a year that he didn't visit a brothel, and certainly his left hand would not have felt betrayed if the work was done by someone else, and in a more engaging way, just to change.
While continuing along the road leading to the port, Dagran roamed with his mind to a few hours earlier, when he had told to the others about their next job. He was so enthusiastic – for his standards – that he had not even complained that he had to wait for Lowell's return to the inn to communicate to the whole group the news, and as he had foreseen, Zael and the others had shown themselves excited at the thought of working for an influential person like the Count Arganan of Lazulis.
All except Yurick, as usual. However, Dagran was sure that as soon as they received the generous reward – and the appointments to Knights, if he could manage the matter well – even the young Mage would finally show some enthusiasm. At that point Dagran found himself in sneer. Maybe he should have brought Yurick to the brothel, so maybe the boy melted a little and showed that he had in his body another kind of fire besides that he created with magic. For sure the girls there would have appreciated what he and Lowell had discovered about the boy at the hot springs of Bastia.
“What a waste! If only he would allow me to teach him my techniques, he could use it to the great...” his friend had commented that time, among other things. Even Dagran was surprised, but he had left the matter quickly: for what he was concerned, he was satisfied with his own body and did not feel the need to compete in that sense, let alone with a kid!
After passing a series of narrow alleys, he found himself in a circular square full of stalls and with an obelisk in the centre. At the bottom of the street in front of him, he could see the ships anchored at the port, while on the left, partly hidden by the roofs of the houses and the warehouses, there was the promontory on which stood the lighthouse. Following the indications he received, he slipped in the street parallel to the one leading to the port and travelled half of it, then he turned to the right at an old wash. The building he was looking for was just ahead, and he recognized it all too well. That spectacle was simply disgusting.
Going in search of nights of passion, he had happened to visit the most disparate brothels and the one which stood before him was without doubt the most shabby of all. The walls of the building, perhaps white long time ago, were scuffed and filled with patches of undefined nature. Shards of tiles dropped from the roof and various dirt surrounded the place like a ring of filth, and even if he was still distant from the entrance, Dagran still managed to smell the stench of sweat, piss and poor beer that crushed the interior. If Lowell had been next to him at that time, he was sure his friend would have pulled him out of weight and then ran away from that abomination... and he would have let him do it, maybe urging him to run faster. And to think that they had told him that it was the best brothel of all Westwing!
Maybe for ragamuffins or low-league mercenaries...
After a further look, he realized that in fact it was just like that. Most of the men and women he saw through the half-unhinged windows and at the entrance, customers and not, were real human wrecks, and those few who were not seemed cutthroats or people that had seen far too many swords and battles in their life, judging from their scars and the sheaths to the belts.
Dagran's face twitched in a grimace. He didn't know why they pointed him to that place in particular, if they were convinced that he could not afford any better or just wanted to mock him, but one thing was certain: they had ruined his evening. It was late now; he had no time to look for another place, and he didn't want to even come close to that receptacle of scraps of society in front of him. If that was his only chance, then he preferred to give up his project for the evening and settle for the usual solo hand work.
“I doubt you'll find what you're looking for in there.”
A female voice roused him from his thoughts. Turning around, he noticed that a young woman had approached him and observed him with interest. She was tall like Syrenne more or less, with long and wavy hair like the warrior, but dark instead of red, and tied in a low tail. A light make-up highlighted her green eyes and the dark dress she wore was simple and unadorned, but of good quality. She was pretty nice, with something familiar, even though he was sure he'd never seen her before... and she was extending her hand to him.
“My name is Samara, but friends call me Sam” she introduced herself.
Dagran arched an eyebrow. A woman approaching a stranger much bigger than her in an alley like that? It was clear that she wasn't from the brothel, but he still found it strange.
“I am Dagran,” he replied after a moment of hesitation and grabbed her hand “and now tell me: how can you be so sure that what I'm looking for is not there?”
“Let's just say that you look like someone who wants something better than that” Sam said with a half smile. That attitude left him perplexed. Which was her purpose? Was she hitting on him? She must have guessed his thoughts, in fact she hastened to explain:
“I'm sorry, maybe I was a little cheeky. It's just that I had a bad day and thought I'd cheer up doing something crazy. I came here to... well, you can imagine... only the place is not like I expected at all» she concluded pointing the brothel with a worried look.
“Yeah, it gives a bad impression” Dagran nodded.
The two remained silently staring at the sad building in front of them, then Dagran turned to Sam again. She was studying him with interest, especially his muscles in plain sight, trying to not getting noticed, but without too much success. Dagran straightened himself as much as he could and tried to give himself a demeanour.
Since it had been very hot during the day and in the evening promised to do the same, before going out he had took off vest and shirt and had put the old mail on, sleeveless and shorter than the regular ones. And unfortunately Lowell noticed it.
“Finally you start listening to me and put the merchandise on display, huh? The ladies will certainly appreciate it!” the Mage had commented with a smile when he had seen him go out. Dagran had rolled his eyes at the sky and left without even answering him. He didn't wear it with that intention, but in the end, maybe Lowell was right about the effect it could have.
Thinking back to the friend's commentary and Sam's words, Dagran came up with an idea. Maybe a little weird, but there was no harm in trying.
“Well, so much for being cheeky too, if you don't want to risk in there, you can come away with me” he said aloud.
Sam gave him a puzzled glance.
“What do you mean?”
“We're both here for the same reason, right?” explained Dagran. “Maybe, since we don't want to go to that dump, we could make it by ourselves.”
At that point Sam opened her eyes wide in surprise.
“Hey, we just met; don't you think you're running a little too fast? I'm not one of those!” she exclaimed pointing to the dump in question.
“N-neither am I, if that's why!” Dagran answered awkwardly. “I'm just saying that you would be safer with me, and you shouldn't even pay.”
She first looked at him baffled, then turned him a sneer of mockery.
“This is the worst approach I've ever witnessed! You don't know about women, do you?”
Dagran didn't answer. In fact, apart Syrenne and Mirania, who were a particular case, he didn't speak very often with women, unless it was for work reasons or to meet his needs in bed. As long as it was about organizing the days, preparing strategies or dealing with potential customers, he knew how to get by in an excellent way, but with everyday chatter, away from the battlefield and thinking about having fun, Zael and the others were better than him. Heck, even Yurick was better than him at it!
The only things Dagran did, in addition to fighting, were drinking and polishing weapons. Actually he was a pretty good blacksmith too, as well as a warrior, but he could practice that art only when he found someone who needed help in his forge and trusted a mercenary, and as a topic of conversation it was not much. For sure Sam wasn't interested in knowing at which temperature the iron melted or which alloy was best suited to make a sword.
At that time he regretted he never paid attention to Lowell all those times his friend had tried to teach him something about wooing.
Maybe I should really start listening to him...
Meanwhile, the silence between the two had become more and more embarrassing for him. Dagran was going to let it go, tell her not to mind his words and move away to save that crumb of self-esteem that had remained to him when Sam began to giggle.
“Gosh, I didn't think that was enough to put a guy like you in trouble! I bet you'd rather I'd meet you wielding a sword, wouldn't you?”
“I admit that in that case I would have made a better figure,” he sighed “but now the damage is done. I hope I didn't offend you.”
And to think that as a child, when his parents were still alive, he had no problem talking to the girls, even though he was rather shy at the time. He wondered if that change in him was due to the terrible traumas he had suffered or the simple fact that he was now a man...
Sam shook her head.
“No offence” she answered. “However you are right: I am here for a reason, and under the circumstances, I think I will take the risk and come away with you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course. After all, I know a good opportunity when I see it» she replied looking him up and down with a mischievous smile that soon after Dagran returned.
“In that case, I can assure you that you will not regret it” he said to her approaching.
“Great. What do you say then if we leave this place and go to a more comfortable one? I know a place nearby where we can sit still.”
That said, Sam walked away from him and went up for a bit along the way before turning to him again.
“Come on, let's go! In the meantime, we could improve your approach with girls a little bit” she said winking at him. Dagran didn't make her repeat it to him.
I think I'm going to have a good night after all.

***

“How did you find this place?” Dagran asked looking around. He was still standing at the bottom of the staircase, while Sam was already halfway to the first floor, with the candle just illuminating the empty environment.
“My mother and I came to this inn every time we passed by Westwing, when it was still open” she told. “After the death of the owner, Marley, they abandoned it because some strange things started to happen. Screaming from empty rooms, thing changing places and stuff like that. It was believed that Marley's ghost roamed the inn in search of his murderer.”
Sam stopped a few steps from the landing.
“Yes, he was killed in his room, stabbed in the heart. They never found out who did it or why, and because of the many incidents now people are so afraid of this place that even beggars stay away from here... at least at night. However, I have never seen or heard anything.”
“Have you kept coming here despite the rumours? Congratulations for your courage” Dagran commented reaching her.
“Thank you,” Sam replied, “but I bet you would have done the same too. It was a comfortable inn after all, and now that everyone believes it's haunted, I can sit here in peace as long as I like. And more than courage, it was a matter of curiosity: I wanted to see if there was something true in those voices. I think it was just someone who for some reason wanted to shut down the inn, but I can't say it for sure. Maybe we'll never know the truth...”
Upon reaching the summit, Sam led Dagran to the last door of the landing.
“It was the only one open the first time I came back here after the closure, with the key still in the patch” she explained as they entered the room, then she closed the door and began to light the lanterns on the walls. Unlike the rest of the inn, covered with dust and cobwebs, that room was clean and tidy, with a large bed, a wardrobe, a chest of drawers and a small armchair next to an old fireplace. Near the fireplace was a door that probably led to a small private bathroom, but Dagran didn't care it much, too busy observing some objects that seemed out of place in that room.
“Are those yours?” he asked, pointing to the two daggers resting on the chest of drawers. Instinctively he brought the hand to his side, near the little dagger which he kept hidden in the cloak. One thing he had learned over the years was that the owners of brothels didn't like armed customers, but at the same time it was always better not to be totally helpless; for that reason he had that dagger with him instead of his swords that evening. Sam barely glanced at the blades, then continued to light the lanterns.
“The fact that nobody comes here except me doesn't mean it can't happen. In such cases, I don't want to get caught unprepared.”
Dagran relaxed for a moment. In fact, she was right. Once she turned on all the lights in the room, Sam came back to him.
“Well, now that it's all set, how about we get more comfortable?” she said, and then began to untie the laces of Dagran's mail with deliberate slowness. He let her do it, studying all her movements. When he could take off his mail, he dropped it to the ground. He felt a certain satisfaction seeing Sam's smile widen while she observed his body.
“Do you like what you see?” he asked in a low voice. She merely nodded without even looking up. Great. Dagran then slipped his hands under the shoulder pads of her gown and helped her to get rid of it, leaving only the underwear on her. He also liked very much what he saw. Sam put her hands on his chest and began to drum her fingers on it.
“The answer seems obvious to me, but...” she said looking into his eyes “You are a warrior, right?”
“I am a mercenary” Dagran replied. He gently probed the shape of her hips, then, placing an hand on her back, he drew her to himself. Their faces were so close they could feel every smallest breath, the bodies clenched against each other.
“Is it a problem?” he asked her with a whisper, bowing his head more and more.
“I would say no” Sam answered a moment before Dagran shut her up with a kiss. At first it was delicate, then became more and more passionate. Dagran felt her hands flowing over his body; one clawed his back, the other went up his chest to his neck and then through his hair, almost ripping the ornamental feather. He did the same, putting in more delicacy than his usual. He had always been impetuous when he made love, but with her he didn't want to take risks: as she had said before, she was not "one of those". Sam clutched him, her arms round his neck, her legs around his hips, and Dagran, without ever detaching his lips from hers, carried her up to the bed with decisive steps.
Yes, definitely a good night.
The Mantis (1/4)(ENG)
Do you want to try and read the original Italian version of this story? Then check it out here! -->  fav.me/dc2haq1

Horray! I'm eons late, but finally I posted the new fanfiction I was working on, the one born from this drawing fav.me/dbaz8z1
Once I've finish with this one, I will start a mini-series of 8 chapters (I promise that the chapters will be shorter than my usual) in which I will introduce 8 OC that will join Zael & Co. in the sequels I planned, then the real big work will begin: it's time to start a True New Chapter of the story!
Ah, one more thing. Because I will join an important Italian contest, I will be very busy, so the other 3 parts of this story will not be posted until March. Sorry Stitch is Sorry plz 

:+fav:, comments and any kind of appreciations are welcome. And if you find some errors don't esitate and tell me so I can fix them ;)

Dagran and The Last Story belong to Mistwalker
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Una bella serata

Era fatta.
Dopo tanti anni di sforzi, Dagran era finalmente vicino al suo obbiettivo. Gli appunti segreti che aveva trovato il giorno prima, su quel potere chiamato Ignoto, avevano acceso in lui una speranza che non sentiva da tanto tempo. E la missione che gli aveva indicato Lord Cyan poi...
Proprio sull'isola in cui è nascosto quel potere, al servizio del Conte Arganan per giunta. E ci sarà perfino quel bastardo di Asthar: se non è fortuna questa!
Lavorare per una persona così influente gli avrebbe permesso non solo di migliorare il proprio stato sociale, ma anche di avvicinare con facilità l'assassino della sua famiglia. Una cosa del genere meritava di essere festeggiata in modo adeguato, e per questo aveva deciso di spendere una parte del suo gruzzolo per passare la serata in piacevole compagnia femminile. Ormai era quasi un anno che non visitava un bordello, e di sicuro la sua mano sinistra non si sarebbe sentita tradita se il lavoro l'avesse svolto qualcun altro, e in maniera più coinvolgente, tanto per cambiare.
Mentre proseguiva lungo la via che conduceva al porto, Dagran ripensò a qualche ora prima, quando aveva parlato agli altri del loro prossimo lavoro. Era così entusiasta – per i suoi standard, se non altro – che non si era neppure lamentato di aver dovuto aspettare il ritorno di Lowell alla locanda per comunicare a tutti la notizia, e come aveva previsto, Zael e gli altri si erano mostrati eccitati al pensiero di lavorare per un pezzo grosso come il Conte Arganan di Lazulis.
Tutti tranne Yurick, come al solito. Dagran però era sicuro che non appena ricevuta la generosa ricompensa – e le nomine a Cavalieri, se riusciva a gestire bene la faccenda –, anche il giovane Mago avrebbe finalmente mostrato un po' di entusiasmo. A quel punto Dagran si ritrovò a sghignazzare fra sé. Forse avrebbe dovuto portare anche Yurick al bordello, così magari si scioglieva un po' e mostrava di avere in corpo dell'altro fuoco oltre a quello che creava con la magia. Di sicuro le ragazze lì avrebbero apprezzato ciò che lui e Lowell avevano scoperto sul ragazzo alle terme di Bastia.
«Che spreco! Se almeno mi permettesse di insegnargli le mie tecniche, potrebbe sfruttarlo alla grande...» aveva commentato l'amico quella volta, tra le altre cose. Anche Dagran era rimasto sorpreso, ma aveva lasciato perdere la questione in fretta: per quel che lo riguardava, era soddisfatto di com'era e non sentiva il bisogno di competere in quel senso, men che mai con un ragazzino!
Dopo aver superato una serie di vicoli stretti, si ritrovò in una piazza circolare piena di bancarelle e con un obelisco al centro. In fondo alla via davanti a lui, riusciva a scorgere le navi ancorate al porto, mentre a sinistra, nascosto in parte dai tetti delle case e dei magazzini, c'era il promontorio su cui sorgeva il faro. Seguendo le indicazioni che gli avevano dato, s'infilò nella via parallela a quella per il porto e la percorse a metà, poi, raggiunto un vecchio lavatoio, svoltò a destra. L'edificio che stava cercando era poco più avanti, e si riconosceva fin troppo bene. Dagran rimase disgustato di fronte a quello spettacolo.
Andando in cerca di brevi notti di passione, gli era capitato di visitare le case di piacere più disparate e quella che si trovava davanti a lui in quel momento era senza dubbio la più squallida di tutte. Le mura dell'edificio, forse bianche un tempo, erano scrostate e piene di macchie di natura indefinita. Cocci di tegole cadute dal tetto e sporcizia varia circondavano il locale come un anello di lerciume, e anche se si trovava a diversi metri dall'ingresso, Dagran riusciva comunque a sentire il tanfo di sudore, piscio e birra scadente che appestava l'interno. Se in quel momento Lowell fosse stato accanto a lui, era sicuro che lo avrebbe tirato su di peso per poi scappare lontano da quell'abominio... e lui glielo avrebbe lasciato fare, forse incitandolo pure a correre più forte. E pensare che gli avevano detto che quello era il bordello migliore di tutta Westwing!
Forse per i poveracci o i mercenari di bassa lega...
Dopo un'ulteriore occhiata, si rese conto che in effetti era proprio così. Gran parte degli uomini e delle donne che scorgeva alle finestre mezze scardinate e all'ingresso, clienti e non, erano veri e propri relitti umani, e quei pochi che non lo erano sembravano tagliagole o gente che di spade e battaglie ne aveva viste fin troppe nella vita, a giudicare dalle cicatrici e dai foderi alle cinture.
Il viso di Dagran si contrasse in una smorfia. Non sapeva perché gli avessero indicato quel posto, se erano convinti che non potesse permettersi di meglio o volevano solo farsi beffe di lui, ma una cosa era certa: gli avevano rovinato la serata. Ormai era tardi; non aveva tempo di andare a cercare un altro posto, e non voleva neppure avvicinarsi a quel ricettacolo di scarti della società che aveva davanti. Se quella era la sua unica possibilità, allora preferiva rinunciare al suo progetto per la serata e accontentarsi del solito lavoro di mano in solitaria.
«Dubito che quello che cerchi sia lì dentro.»
Una voce femminile lo riscosse dai suoi pensieri. Voltandosi, si accorse che una donna lo aveva avvicinato e l'osservava con interesse. Era alta più o meno come Syrenne, con capelli lunghi e mossi come la guerriera, ma corvini anziché rossi, legati in una coda bassa. Un trucco leggero metteva in risalto i suoi occhi verdi e l'abito scuro che indossava era semplice e disadorno, ma di buona qualità. Era piuttosto carina, con qualcosa di familiare, anche se era certo di non averla mai vista prima... e gli stava porgendo la mano.
«Il mio nome è Samara, ma gli amici mi chiamano Sam» si presentò.
Dagran inarcò un sopracciglio. Una donna che si avvicinava così a uno sconosciuto molto più grosso di lei, in un vicolo come quello? Si vedeva che non veniva da quella topaia, però lo trovò comunque strano.
«Io sono Dagran,» rispose dopo un attimo di esitazione stringendole la mano «e ora dimmi: come fai a essere così sicura che quello che cerco non è lì?»
«Diciamo che si vede che sei uno che vuole qualcosa di più» fece Sam con un mezzo sorriso. Quel suo atteggiamento lo lasciava perplesso. Che intenzioni aveva? Ci stava provando con lui? Lei doveva aver intuito i suoi pensieri, infatti si affrettò a spiegare:
«Scusami, forse sono stata un po' sfacciata. È solo che ho avuto una bruttissima giornata e ho pensato di tirarmi su facendo qualcosa di folle. Sono venuta qui per... beh, puoi immaginare perché... solo che il posto non è per niente come me l'aspettavo» concluse indicando con aria preoccupata il bordello.
«In effetti dà una pessima impressione» annuì Dagran.
I due rimasero in silenzio a fissare a braccia incrociate il triste edificio di fronte a loro, poi Dagran si voltò di nuovo verso Sam. Lei lo stava studiando con interesse, in particolare i suoi muscoli in bella vista, cercando senza troppo successo di non farsi notare. Dagran si raddrizzò più che poteva e tentò di darsi un contegno. Siccome aveva fatto molto caldo durante il giorno e la sera prometteva di fare altrettanto, prima di uscire si era levato gilè e camicia e aveva messo la vecchia cotta, senza maniche e più corta di quelle regolari. E Lowell non aveva potuto fare a meno di notarlo.
«Finalmente cominci a darmi ascolto e metti la mercanzia in mostra, eh? Le signore apprezzeranno di certo!» aveva infatti commentato con un sorriso quando l'aveva visto uscire. Dagran aveva alzato gli occhi al cielo e se n'era andato senza nemmeno rispondergli. Non l'aveva indossata con quell'intenzione, ma in fondo forse Lowell aveva ragione sull'effetto che poteva avere.
Ripensando al commento dell'amico e alle parole di Sam, gli venne un'idea. Magari un po' balorda, ma tentare non costava nulla.
«Beh, tanto per essere sfacciato anch'io, se non vuoi rischiare là dentro, puoi venire via con me» disse ad alta voce.
Sam alzò perplessa lo sguardo verso di lui.
«Che intendi dire?»
«Siamo qui entrambi per lo stesso motivo, no?» spiegò Dagran. «Magari, visto che non vogliamo andare a quella bettola, potremmo arrangiarci fra di noi.»
A quel punto Sam sgranò gli occhi sorpresa.
«Ehi, ci siamo appena conosciuti; non ti sembra di correre un po' troppo? Non sono mica una di quelle!» esclamò indicando la bettola in questione.
«N-neanch'io sono uno di quelli, se è per questo!» rispose goffamente Dagran. «Dico solo che con me non correresti alcun rischio, e non dovresti neppure pagare.»
Lei prima lo guardò sconcertata, poi gli rivolse un ghigno di scherno.
«Questo è il tentativo di abbordaggio peggiore a cui io abbia mai assistito! Tu non ci sai fare con le donne, vero?»
Dagran non rispose. In effetti, a parte Syrenne e Mirania, che erano un caso particolare, non parlava molto spesso con delle donne, se non per motivi di lavoro o per soddisfare le proprie necessità a letto. Finché si trattava di organizzare le giornate, preparare strategie o trattare con i potenziali clienti, sapeva cavarsela in maniera eccellente, ma con le chiacchiere di tutti i giorni, quando si era lontani dal campo di battaglia e si pensava allo svago, se la cavavano meglio Zael e gli altri. Diamine, perfino Yurick era più bravo di lui da quel punto di vista!
Le uniche cose che Dagran faceva, oltre a combattere, erano bere e lucidare le armi. In realtà era anche un fabbro abbastanza bravo, oltre che un guerriero, ma poteva praticare quell'arte solo quando trovava qualcuno che avesse bisogno di aiuto nella sua fucina e che si fidasse di un mercenario, e come argomento di conversazione non era granché. Di sicuro a Sam non interessava sapere a quale temperatura fondesse il ferro o quale lega fosse la più adatta per fare una spada.
In quel momento rimpianse di non aver mai prestato attenzione a Lowell tutte quelle volte che aveva cercato di insegnargli qualcosa sul corteggiamento.
Forse dovrei davvero cominciare a dargli ascolto...
Nel frattempo, il silenzio fra i due era diventato sempre più imbarazzante per lui. Stava per lasciar perdere, dirle di non fare caso alle sue parole e allontanarsi per salvare quel briciolo di autostima che gli era rimasta, quando Sam cominciò a ridacchiare.
«Accidenti, non pensavo che bastasse così poco per mettere in difficoltà uno come te! Scommetto che avresti preferito che ti venissi incontro brandendo una spada, non è così?»
«Ammetto che in quel caso avrei fatto una figura migliore,» sospirò Dagran «ma ormai il danno è fatto. Spero di non averti offesa.»
E pensare che da piccolo, quando erano ancora vivi i suoi genitori, non aveva problemi a parlare con le bambine, anche se era piuttosto timido all'epoca. Chissà se quel cambiamento in lui era dovuto ai traumi terribili che aveva subito o al semplice fatto che adesso era un uomo...
Sam scosse la testa.
«Nessuna offesa» rispose. «Comunque hai ragione: sono qui per un motivo, e date le circostanze, penso proprio che correrò il rischio e verrò via con te».
«Sicura?»
«Certo. In fondo so riconoscere una buona occasione quando ne vedo una» rispose squadrandolo con un sorriso malizioso che poco dopo Dagran ricambiò.
«In tal caso, posso garantirti che non te ne pentirai» le disse avvicinandosi.
«Ottimo. Che ne dici allora se ci appartiamo in un luogo più confortevole? Conosco un posto qui vicino dove possiamo starcene tranquilli.»
Detto questo, Sam si allontanò da lui e risalì per un po' lungo la via prima di voltarsi di nuovo verso di lui.
«Forza, andiamo! Nel frattempo, potremmo migliorare un po' i tuoi approcci con le ragazze» disse facendogli l'occhiolino. Dagran non se lo fece ripetere.
Credo proprio che passerò una bella serata dopotutto.

***

«Come hai trovato questo posto?» chiese Dagran guardandosi intorno. Era ancora fermo in fondo alla scala, mentre Sam era già a metà strada per il primo piano, con la candela che rischiarava appena l'ambiente vuoto.
«Io e mia madre venivamo in questa locanda ogni volta che passavamo da Westwing, quando era ancora aperta» raccontò. «Dopo la morte del proprietario, Marley, l'hanno abbandonata perché capitavano cose strane. Urla da stanze vuote, oggetti che cambiavano posto e roba del genere. Si credeva che il fantasma di Marley vagasse per la locanda in cerca del suo assassino.»
Sam si fermò a pochi gradini dal pianerottolo.
«Già, l'hanno ucciso in camera sua, con una pugnalata al cuore. Non hanno mai scoperto chi è stato o perché, e a causa dei continui incidenti adesso la gente ha così paura di questo posto che neppure i mendicanti ci si avvicinano... o almeno non di notte. Comunque io non ho mai visto né sentito niente.»
«Hai continuato a venire qui nonostante le dicerie? Complimenti per il tuo coraggio» commentò Dagran raggiungendola.
«Grazie,» rispose Sam «ma scommetto che anche tu l'avresti fatto. In fondo prima era una locanda confortevole, e adesso che tutti la credono infestata, posso starmene qui in santa pace finché mi pare. E poi, più che di coraggio, si è trattato di curiosità: volevo capire quanto c'era di vero in quelle voci. Io credo si trattasse solo di qualcuno che per qualche motivo voleva far chiudere la locanda, ma non so dirlo con certezza. Forse non sapremo mai la verità...»
Raggiunta la cima, Sam guidò Dagran fino all'ultima porta del pianerottolo.
«Era l'unica aperta e con la chiave ancora nella toppa la prima volta che sono tornata qui dopo la chiusura» spiegò mentre entravano nella stanza, dopodiché chiuse la porta e cominciò ad accendere le lanterne alle pareti. A differenza del resto della locanda, coperto di polvere e ragnatele, quella stanza era pulita e ordinata, con un grande letto, un armadio, una cassettiera e una poltroncina accanto a un vecchio camino spento. Vicino al camino c'era una porta che probabilmente conduceva a un piccolo bagno privato, ma Dagran non ci badò molto, troppo impegnato a osservare degli oggetti che gli sembravano fuori luogo in quella stanza.
«Sono tuoi quei pugnali?» chiese indicando le armi appoggiate sulla cassettiera. D'istinto portò la mano al fianco, vicino alla piccola daga che teneva nascosta nella mantella. Una cosa che aveva imparato nel corso degli anni era che ai proprietari delle case di piacere non piacevano i clienti armati, ma allo stesso tempo era sempre meglio non essere del tutto indifesi; per quel motivo aveva con sé quella daga anziché le sue spade quella sera. Sam degnò appena di uno sguardo le lame, poi continuò ad accendere le lanterne.
«Il fatto che qui non venga nessuno a parte me non significa che non possa accadere. In casi del genere, non voglio farmi cogliere impreparata.»
Dagran si rilassò un momento. In effetti aveva ragione. Una volta accese tutte le luci della stanza, Sam tornò da lui.
«Bene, ora che è tutto a posto, che ne dici se ci mettiamo comodi?» disse, e poi cominciò a sciogliere i lacci della cotta di Dagran con deliberata lentezza. Lui la lasciò fare, studiando ogni suo movimento. Quando poté sfilarsi la cotta, la lasciò cadere a terra. Provò una certa soddisfazione vedendo il sorriso di Sam allargarsi mentre lei osservava il suo corpo.
«Ti piace quello che vedi?» le chiese a bassa voce. Lei si limitò ad annuire senza neppure alzare lo sguardo. Ottimo. Dagran allora infilò le mani sotto le spalline del suo abito e la aiutò a liberarsene, lasciandole addosso solo la biancheria. Anche lui gradì molto quello che vide. Sam gli mise le mani sul petto e cominciò a tamburellarci sopra con le dita.
«La risposta mi sembra ovvia, ma...» cominciò lei guardandolo negli occhi «tu sei un guerriero, vero?»
«Sono un mercenario» rispose Dagran. Saggiò la forma dei suoi fianchi con dolcezza, poi, mettendole una mano sulla schiena, la trasse a sé. I loro visi erano così vicini da sentire ogni più piccolo respiro, i corpi stretti l'uno contro l'altro.
«È un problema?» le chiese con un sussurro, chinando il capo sempre di più.
«Direi di no» rispose Sam un attimo prima che Dagran la zittisse con un bacio. All'inizio fu delicato, poi diventò sempre più appassionato. Dagran sentì le mani di lei scorrergli sul corpo; una gli artigliò la schiena, l'altra gli risalì il petto fino al collo per poi infilarglisi fra i capelli, quasi strappandogli la penna ornamentale. Lui fece altrettanto, mettendoci però più delicatezza del suo solito. Era sempre stato impetuoso quando faceva l'amore, ma con lei non voleva correre rischi: come gli aveva detto prima, lei non era “una di quelle”. Sam si avvinghiò a lui, le braccia al collo, le gambe attorno ai fianchi, e Dagran, senza mai staccare le labbra dalle sue, la sorresse e con la portò passo deciso fino al letto.
Sì, decisamente una bella serata.
La Mantide (1/4)(ITA)
(ENG) If you don't speak/read Italian don't worry: you can find the English version here --> fav.me/dc2nu8g

(ITA) Evviva! Dopo eoni di ritardo per motivi di cui preferisco non parlare, ecco a voi la nuova fanfiction, quella nata da questo disegno: fav.me/dbaz8z1
Quando avrò finito di postare questa, partirò con una "mini-serie" di 8 capitoli (cercherò di farli molto più brevi del mio solito, lo prometto) in cui presenterò altrettanti personaggi che si uniranno al "cast" di TLS nei sequel che sto progettando, dopodiché comincerà il vero lavorone, ovvero il primo dei tre sequel. Basta fanfiction random: è tempo di iniziare il Vero Nuovo Capitolo della storia!
Ah, un ultima cosa. Siccome mi sto preparando per partecipare al RILL di quest'anno, le parti mancanti di questa storia con tutta probabilità le posterò a Marzo. Chiedo venia Stitch is Sorry plz 

:+fav:, commenti e apprezzamenti di varia natura sono sempre apprezzati

Dagran e The Last Story sono di proprietà di Mistwalker
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Hey guys! It's been a while since my last journal. I apologise for the lack of updates and new stuff, but unfortunately between depression and other things I slowed down a lot the production of anything, drawings in particular (in fact I have not yet started the gifts that I had planned to do last Christmas! I'm really sorry). Sad stuff aside, this was a period of deep reflection, following which I decided to change the way I act.

To begin with, since I want the writing to become my job, the time has come to treat my original texts accordingly, so from now on I will post on the Internet only and exclusively the fanfictions and keep the new stories for competitions. The stories that I have already posted will remain online, while Storie dei Tre Deserti and Alter Ventus will no longer have new chapters... but since I never updated them, I don't think that someone would notice the difference. Of course, it's possible that I post new designs inspired to them in the future, since I have no intention of abandoning those stories, but if you want to know how them continue, then you have to hope that someone will publish me (and especially that I finish writing them). Separate speech must be done for the tales about Kian: because those are particular, I decided that those will be the only original stories that I'll continue to post here... IF I write more of them, it's obvious.

 I have a few things to say about my
 fanfictions too. If you followed me for a while, you should know that I have a kind of obsession with "The Last Story", caused by the fate of my favourite character within the game. Unfortunately however, as it's a nice game, it's practically unknown to the most, and since Mr. Sakaguchi doesn't make sequels in general (Final Fantasy from II to VII don't count as sequels), there is no hope for a second episode. At most we can hope for an HD version for Switch, but it is very unlikely. And this brings me to the following announcement: after seven years, I finally decided to take matters into my own hands and start writing a sequel by myself! If all goes well, I'll start posting it towards the end of April and it will be preceded by a mini-series of 8 one-shots in which I'll present as many OC that will join the original cast. I can't guarantee frequent updates, since I have to work on other projects too, but I'll try to do my best.


Another thing I want to announce is that maybe the fanfiction upon "The Last Story" will no longer be the only ones I post from now on. It's something I've been thinking about for years. For the new series of fanfiction I chose as a base a manga/anime of which I appreciated the idea of background but I couldn't bear the excess of sweetness: Card Captor Sakura.
So, here I should start a long talk about how long it took to the Italian television networks to understand the various distinctions of target of manga and anime, but this journal is already long enough so I will go straight to the point.
I had already tried to write a fanfiction upon CCS about 5 years ago, with changes more of my taste. The result was pleasant, but not convincing enough, so I trashed it. Now they started broadcasting Clear Card, the sequel to CCS, so I decided to make a second attempt. I will try to write a chapter, and if things go well enough, I will start the "Card Master Sakura" Project. I warn you: there will be big changes in the story, and I'm not just referring to the title!
True, I could have gone on the safe side and write fanfictions upon "The Legend Of Zelda" (also to attract many more readers), but unfortunately I remember all too well my first, horrible attempt and I am not yet ready to try again. Maybe I can not write fanfiction upon Zelda because in my eyes the series is already perfect as it is, not to mention that I haven't played "Breath Of The Wild" yet! Who knows, maybe in the future I will make another attempt, but it's very unlikely.

And with that, I think I said everything I had to say.
Alla prossima!

  • Listening to: Amberian Dawn - Darkness of eternity
  • Reading: A series of unfortunate events - Lemony Snicket
  • Watching: Hawaii Five 0
  • Playing: Zelda: Ocarina Of Time 3D (new 2DS! Yes!)
  • Eating: my liver...
  • Drinking: a cup of tea, my dear

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Comments


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:icontazunee:
Tazunee Featured By Owner Nov 7, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Tanti auguri Ste! (^^ )   
:star: Buon Compleanno! :star:
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:iconcarofrescodolceflata:
CaroFrescoDolceFlata Featured By Owner Nov 7, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Grazie mille! :happybounce::hug:
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:icongabycoutino:
GabyCoutino Featured By Owner Oct 28, 2018  Hobbyist General Artist
Nice gallery

Have a bunny
/)_/)
(>•.•)
c((")(")
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:iconcarofrescodolceflata:
CaroFrescoDolceFlata Featured By Owner Nov 7, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Thank you! :hug:
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pinkythepink Featured By Owner Oct 27, 2018  Professional Artisan Crafter
:love: Thank you for the favorites, it really means ever so much to me that you enjoy my artwork! I invite you to add me to your watch so that you can see all the future beaded and stitched pieces I have planned! :blowkiss: Just think of the sparkles... :squee:
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Eirwen980 Featured By Owner Oct 26, 2018  Student General Artist
Grazie mille per il watch!! :3
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:iconcarofrescodolceflata:
CaroFrescoDolceFlata Featured By Owner Nov 7, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Non c'è di che ;)
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Nenril-Tf Featured By Owner Oct 11, 2018  Student Traditional Artist
Grazie del fav :D
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:iconcarofrescodolceflata:
CaroFrescoDolceFlata Featured By Owner Oct 19, 2018  Hobbyist Writer
Non c'è di che :nod:
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:iconsongbirdrebel:
SongbirdRebel Featured By Owner Oct 4, 2018
Grazie for faving "October" Hatsune Miku-10 (Appreciate) 
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