The Game Hush, as you slip along the onyx stone, as the silver silk lines you, in corporeal grace, Where the moonlight is a stagelight at midnight, this place. An outline, a silent, sinister, supple movement. The edged white, dressed in black and red, slides along with your velvet hand. Hair dances in the floating night's breeze. As you ask in silence, if my eyes betray my cards.
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