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gin a body catch a body
comin thro' the rye,
gin a body catch a body,
need a body cry?


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@Saltwater Thief, let us go with touch as the main source. (She wears gloves like Colonel Mustang.) Although, if need be, she can draw an Alchemy circle and lure someone into it. The idea was spurred from Izumi Curtis' ability to rearrange her organs and this current time period (in the real world) being enriched by Fruedian, Ferenczian, Jungian, & (of course) Russell studies.
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Granted! @amorphical is now able to fly at Will. Non-coincidentally, @amorphical's flight to Eschaton has just become a smooth sailing journey. Hooray!

I wish for more washboard recommendations from online strangers.
𝓐s usual, she had spoken not as he had predicted...

“𝒪f course...” Finnegan drew in a breath through his nose, nodded with his face still a little pale from the early afternoon debacle. Lady Alyssana smelled as if she meant what she said, which was nothing unusual from her. The truth always smelled brilliant to Finnegan, and thus, he associated this smell largely with Lady Alyssana, even if the bitterest traces of her own prejudice (that genuinely he believed to be had against herself more than anyone) often times danced lingeringly upon her skin -- such as now.

He could smell it more now that she was inquiring about something of mystery, and he could not help but enjoy it, “There has been a series of murders of certain persons,” he began, his lips parting at a less than adequate rate at would have a man who was not hungover, “Excuse me, please, have a seat,” he motioned towards a florally decorated chair with a concave back and overstuffed cushion. It was cerulean in color with brass designs.

Finnegan took his own seat in something a little more traditional than cabriolet and drew in another breath. He propped himself upwards with his own arm and the help of the chair's arm. His hand leaned on a fist, and then, following his movement, a leg plucked itself over the other. The hint of silk under his pants could be seen. “Hardly any of which seem to have been reported in the paper.” His eyes glanced towards the exit of the door and then quickly came to study Lady Alyssaana (perhaps, sitting, now), once more, “And, before you say anything.” Finnegan straightened his body and drew in another breath through his nostrils. A finger raised to silence the air and all its aromas, “Madame Sophronia has summoned me into this.” Swallowing something out of nervousness, he withdrew his placement from the arm of the chair, reached into the inside pocket of his jacket, and from which, plucked a folded piece of paper;

𝓣winkle, 𝓣winkle 𝓜y 𝓡epertoire,
How I wonder where you are!
Dancing 'round the world, you'll die,
But like a mystery, you're all too shy.


𝓣winkle, 𝓣winkle 𝓜y 𝓡epertoire,
How I wonder where you are...


. ❖ .
And so begins
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The Second Dilemma of Lady Alssyana Grey

I wanna have what it takes! Count me in!
И я как привидение.
Мы
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