AndrogynousRabbit

“Will we allow it?” The roar was inconceivable, and Clopin shoved his way to the front of their iron prison. His eyes stayed trained on Notre Dame, watching the tower that Quasimodo and Esmeralda had disappeared into. His lips curled into a scowl as he addressed the Cathedral. This was just one more reason to hate it. Lost in his thoughts, Clopin lagged behind the wave of gypsies that were clamoring through the collected weapons. When he reached it, he scanned the pile, tossing daggers and swords aside with indifference. Clopin was useless at swordplay. He needed something with a bit more class, anyway. Everyone had a swords, kniv