"How is it that you managed to eschew death?” Genevieve questioned as she danced her fingers upon Crow’s chest, tracing the outline of his pectoral muscles and the ink of his tattoos as they spoke. “They were certain your heart had ceased…”
Although he had managed to evade the topic until now, Crow was no longer able to avoid speaking the truth to Genevieve. He knew she grew more eager with each passing second to know the truth, and yet, he was unsure exactly where to start with his resurrection.
“I can recall our time together in Ironwall; growing up abreast each other with shared tutors and rainy days before the fireplace speaking of what we would do upon the days present with sun. We would walk upon the garden and pick one of every flower in a fresh bloom to make bouquets of our own
