Clash of Titans: Fated No Escape

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Détente declared, gifts are sweet. Who wouldn’t dream of frolicking in the Caucasus?

Perhaps you doubted my rhetorical pivot. The manipulation of language is an ancient art, a tale as old as trade and gifts, dancing for your dreamer.

Two masterminds converge. Oh, my, who could have foreseen this Swift?

Afraid of little old us? Eros or agape, I’ll provide the love she was denied. You know what that means: fait accompli.

Afraid of little old us?

...

Give it time, you will see the thinly veiled critique is oceans deep.

We both know this isn't over; we are playing for keeps.

A respite granted, mercy is my offer.

Civitasvox