Mary Weather was a troublesome woman she always seemed to proceeded a storm her skill of getting others backs up was in my black war eyes something to be admired
Her onyx exterior was heat resistant she was a tempest in a teacup so cold cool and so very dark her warring stance was just an art spitting treason like hailstones
Pure as night was Mary Weather with a opal stare that could **** I myself did witness her wonder and if I left her to her ways she would a spell put you under
She was made from a warlike mould with a paladin spirit vast so I sent my love to her in a letter and as she opened it bang, she was a dead Mary Weather