There it was, staring me in the face. An intricate dragon on a bed of clouds, etched into Shans shoulder blade forever. The expression on the dragon's...face was what I could never remember when trying to recreate it. The emotions that I had represented in the dragons expression was of pain, loneliness but fierce and determined at the same time. I swallowed hard before carefully replying, "I thought I lost him forever, I was really upset when I couldn't find him." "Oh, I'm sorry I didn't realise. It’s nothing against men per se, but her lifetime of experience with the menfolk has been one of frequent rape and abuse. Trust me, she’s the right choice,” the spirit assured me.Just then, there was a knock at the door, followed by a kick that pushed it open, but this time, only one man entered the house forcibly. It was Art Powell, born Chester Alan Arthur Powell, Jr., son of Chet and brother of Chesty. Art carried a crossbow, of all things, wore all black, and no doubt saw himself as a. Nothing more was said by the woman, until he almost fell trying to step up onto the porch. She immediately threw open the door and ran to help him. After she got him seated in the rocking chair she went back inside. Moments later she returned with a dipper full of water.While he drank he got a good look at the young woman who couldn’t have been much older than he was. Her dirty blond hair could’ve used a good brushing and her dress was thread-worn and tattered, with patches on patches. Despite. "I'm an adult now, Dad, and I'm allowed to make my own decisions. And I've decided I want you. Can you honestly tell me that you don't want me too? Wasn't it me you were just thinking about?" I was moving toward him now, a mischievous smile on my face. He seemed to shrink against the side of the shower. But he didn't try to leave, and he was starting to steal glances downward at my wet, naked form. "That’s it, Dad, take a nice look. I know you’ve been watching me from the window, and it turns.