Every once in a while, as she spoke, his gaze followed her necklace down to where her cross hung just below her collarbone, framed by the molten chcocolate ringlets of her hair, a sparkling symbol of the faith that was otherwise displayed by mere action.
Her pale skin was flawless, and the gentle rhythm of her heart could be seen at her throat as the life coursed through her, delivering the perfect dose of peach to her striking features.
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