ice [Theme] Page 4

And the sun, the ice spewing.

What's the story with the tracks?
- Someone's horse trodden in the backyard, near the back door. It they checked, I tell you! The car on our road does not pass, will stick, so they wanted to see if there will be a horse. To then loot it to load and digidim!
And who are these "they" to you?
- Well, you never know who... Though the elves scatty those who wanted armor to cheap to buy...
- Club fiction?
- That's it, they are the best. They can be a horse, why not?

Veronica, welcome to the River of Chanterelles. Betty... good luck next time.
- Wait... what? Why? Because you are unable to turn Betty into a bitch?
- I need a girl with fire in the team.
- I know what you need, Cheryl. Because you know who you are. You prefer people to be feared and not loved, so you use fear and intimidation. You're rich, so you were never prosecuted, but I am living proof that this belief is right that you wear on your head, like a crown, it won't be long. In the end, there will be a reckoning. Or, perhaps, payback has arrived, and maybe the payback is me. Betty and I are in the kit. Want one you take both. You wanted fire? Sorry, Cheryl-bomb, my specialty is ice.
- Veronica, welcome to the River Vixens. Betty... better luck next time.
- Wait... what? Why? Because you couldn't bully into Betty being a bitch?
- I need girls with fire on my squad.
- I know what you need, Cheryl. Because I know who you are. You would rather fear than people like you, so you traffic in terror and intimidation. You're rich, so you've never been held accountable, but I'm living proof that certainty of entitlement... that you wear on your head like a crown... it won't last. Eventually, there will be a reckoning. Or... maybe that reckoning is now and maybe, that reckoning... is me. Betty and I come as a matching set. You want one, you take us both. You wanted fire? Sorry, Cherry-bombshell, my specialty''s ice.

Freeze, who was born with a cold heart.

- Not to drink, should drink soda with ice.
- You know your American addiction to ice scares me. You with such fury around the clock to absorb the ice as if you are all icebergs revenge for the death of "Titanic."

The ice is killing no worse than the fire.

The ceiling ice, a door creaking
For rough wall barbed darkness
How will the threshold - frost everywhere,
And vapour of intense blue oozing...

I wish you next year to freeze ass to the ice!

Feel the icy figure, who happened to be under running hot water. Soon I will disappear. Hope you feel better..

Please, come to your senses and open your heart to me. And now fucking otkoly from him a few pieces of ice for my whisky double.